


Ask Me No Questions, I'll Tell You No Lies

by Callista_Blake



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fred Weasley Lives, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Non-Canon Relationship, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Slow Burn, Story within a Story, Teenage Drama, Wizarding World (Harry Potter), different POV, it won't be for a while though, seriously slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 20:15:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 64,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20346064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callista_Blake/pseuds/Callista_Blake
Summary: Fred never really thought of Hermione as much more than Ron's know-it-all best friend.Hermione never really thought of Fred as much more than Ron's chaotic older brother.What would happen if they actually got the chance to get to know each other? A closely canon compliant Fredmione series rewrite starting the summer before the events of GOF.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that has been taking up space on my hard drive for a few years. I recently read through it and decided that not only was it not garbage, but I was actually inspired enough to continue on with it. Fred and Hermione is a pairing that I personally love and can't ever seem to get enough of. I'm so excited to finally share this story! 
> 
> Quite a bit of the story has already been either planned or already written so even if it might take a while, please take heart that I will never ever abandon this story, even if I'm old and in a nursing home. 😆
> 
> I have large portions of each year already planned out and roughly written. It would devastate me not to get to share it. 
> 
> This will also not contain unnecessary Weasley bashing of any member that wasn't in canon (like Percy, who really does deserve it). That being said, Ron will still be Ron. He will still have the emotional range of a teaspoon, he will still be insensitive sometimes, and he will still hurt Hermione's feelings on occasion without realizing it. Fred and George will still make fun of him and pick on him the way they do in canon. Ron grows so much as a person in the canon and he will in this story as well, even if he doesn't end up with Hermione. 
> 
> Creating a story that fits well within the original canon is very important to me and this story does contain text from the original series. I like to weave scenes from Fred or Hermione's perspective into the existing scenes, and I am still working to find a balance. I have marked chapters that contain direct text from the books. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to JKR. I just use it as my own creative playground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Harry Potter Universe belongs to JKR. I just come hang out in it to fix history and keep Fred alive.

Hermione stepped into the kitchen of the Burrow in the early moments before dawn the morning after she arrived. The first golden rays of light hadn't made it over the trees yet. Waking up before the sun was up was a habit she had inherited from her father, and Hermione enjoyed every moment of the peaceful solitude. When she was home for the holidays from Hogwarts, it was one of her favorite things to do with him. They'd sit at the breakfast table, next to the large window looking into the garden, sharing a morning cup of tea, reading together in silence or perhaps discussing current events in the paper.

Hermione started a kettle for tea, wondering for a moment what he was reading that morning. Leaning on the counter and watching the steady golden glow starting to illuminate the garden, she could tell that it was going to be a beautiful sight when the sun came up. The night before, over dinner, Hermione had mentioned how much she enjoyed the early mornings of solitude with Mrs. Weasley.

She smiled then, thinking about how Mrs. Weasley had winked at her, saying that there really wasn’t any sight that could compare to the way the sun hit the orchard where the boys would play Quidditch in the early morning.

  
Hermione pulled the kettle off before it could whistle properly and wake anyone, and made a cup of tea. She sat back down at the table and pulled her book out to get started on some of the reading that Professor Vector had recommended over the summer. A creak of someone stepping on the wooden floor made Hermione turn around. She saw Fred standing there, looking at her from the doorway with a surprised but still groggy expression.

“Blimey, I thought Mum was the only one who woke up in the odd hours of the night for no reason,” he yawned, stretching his arms up over his head.

“Five o'clock is hardly the ‘odd hours of the night’, Fred. I happen to like waking up early, but if it’s so strange why are you awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep. I finally gave up trying when I thought I heard Mum down here. On my way down though, I heard her snoring. Don’t let her try to convince you it's Dad. She gets as loud as Moaning Myrtle. I knew she was asleep, but I still wanted to know who was down here. Everyone else in this house likes to sleep until the sun is properly up and I had forgotten you were even here.” Fred said, grinning.

“I am sorry if I startled you. I’ll be sure to stay quiet down here if you wanted to get some more sleep”, Hermione said unable to keep an amused smile off her face.

“Nah, you’ve already gone and woken me up properly. As I said, I won’t be able to go back to sleep, so you’ll just have to enjoy my company…er, not?”

She hadn’t meant to, but Hermione realized she must have made a face. It wasn’t that she had a problem with Fred, quite the contrary.

Sure, he and George were chaotic together, but Hermione liked Fred and George very much. They were a lot smarter than they let on, were loyal friends and as much as they joked with others, they were always willing to be the butt of the joke themselves when the need arose.

“No! Please, join me if you like. I like watching the sunrise and having my quiet alone time, but please sit. There's water for tea in the kettle.”

Fred moved into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of tea while Hermione turned her attention back to her reading. She was just starting on a passage about the relative nature of even factors when Fred’s amused voice broke into her thoughts.

“You know, I have to say. I think it’s pretty funny that you think old Trelawney is nothing but a batty old fraud, but you love Arithmancy so much.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione said absently, not looking up from the book.

“Arithmancy is basically the same thing, isn’t it? It’s a form of Divination. Just using numbers instead of tea leaves.”

Hermione looked up at Fred. She opened her mouth and closed it. Then opened it again but still, the words wouldn’t come. She shook her head as the corners of her mouth turned upward in a smile.

“People just think Arithmancy is so much more credible because no one batty is trying to tell them they are going to die soon.” Fred continued, clearly amused that he had rendered her speechless.

“Well, it is funny you say that. Arithmancers actually are quite similar to muggle Actuaries, you know.” Hermione stated matter of factly.

“What’s that?” Fred looked confused.

“Well, it’s a muggle job where a person calculates the statistical probability of events. Even down to when a person will die based on different factors in their lives.”

“Sounds mad to me.” Fred shook his head in incredulity. “Who would really want to walk around knowing when they are going to die? What do you do when the day comes? Have a mad dash through the town square in your bloomers setting off firecrackers? And then what if it’s wrong? Me, I’ll let the future stay foggy. That’s why I ditched them both third year.”

“You took Arithmancy?!” Hermione choked out through her laughter.

“Don’t sound so shocked. George and I can be quite studious when we want to be. The trouble is, it usually seems more of a bother than not,” Fred said, shrugging.

“I’ve always suspected it,” Hermione said, smiling wryly as she took a sip of her tea.

“Hermione, you’re simply too kind”, Fred said pretending to be flattered, putting his hands to his heart at her words. He looked out the window and the brilliant orange light illuminated his eyes, making them appear golden brown.

“And you may have a point about early mornings too," he said.

  
Hermione looked up too and the scene took her breath away. Mrs. Weasley had been right. Golden morning light broke through the apple trees, casting a calm glow over the mist that was dissipating in the morning light, making the grass sparkle with dew. Chickens wandered along the yard, and the crisp air coming through the open window promised that it would be a glorious day.

If she were an artist, Hermione thought she might like to paint it but she knew that she’d never able to capture just how peaceful and hopeful the scene before her looked.

“Well, me being right is certainly statistically probable,” she said. Fred laughed appreciatively.

“It makes me want to get up early more often, or at least stay up late enough to see it. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your ‘quiet alone time’ though,” he said, rolling his eyes at her.

“I actually didn’t mind the company to tell you the truth. You’re welcome to join me again sometime as long as you promise not to go for a mad dash in your bloomers setting off firecrackers.” Hermione replied in a very serious voice.

Fred laughed, “It’d be a conversation starter at least.”

He drained the last of his tea and stood to leave. He paused by the door.

“Thanks for the tea and conversation, enjoy your alone time.” Then he was gone.

With a bit of a silly smile, Hermione had trouble focusing on her book after Fred had gone. Instead, she decided to replay the conversation in her head as she watched the morning light grow brighter over the back yard of the Burrow. She found herself hoping that Fred would take her up on the offer to join her in the future. She’d never really had a serious conversation with either Fred or George and realized that she was eagerly awaiting the next one.

************

Fred smiled too on the way back up the staircase to his room. He had enjoyed the conversation with Hermione that morning more than he had expected to. He had always thought of her as Ron’s stuffy and uptight know-it-all friend but found that underneath her stern exterior, she was surprisingly enjoyable to talk to.

She was quick-witted and willing to joke more than he had expected. Realizing that most of the first impressions he’d had of Hermione had come from commiserations from Ron, Fred found that he had enjoyed her company. And she had been right. He felt energized by seeing the sunrise and starting the day early. He made a mental note to set the alarm early the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit (4/26/20): This chapter has been cleaned up and rewritten. This first chapter has bugged me for quite a while. There was a lot of very textbook fan-fic language and cheesy, unrealistic dialogue in the originally posted chapter. As I have gotten more comfortable writing this story, I have really wanted to go through and continue to polish chapters as I can. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any part of the Harry Potter Universe. I just like to use it as my creative playground.

Fred did begin to join Hermione in the mornings. Not every day at first, but by the end of the week, he and Hermione had formed a routine. The first one to the kitchen would start the kettle and they would sit together, sometimes just enjoying the silence, sometimes talking. Their conversations ranged from mundane and academic to silly and lighthearted.

“No way, I don’t believe it.” Fred looked aghast, trying to shake the mental picture from his head.

“I’m serious. Harry thinks the same thing!” Hermione said, telling Fred about her suspicions that Filch and Madam Pince had a secret relationship on one of their morning conversations. She had just finished telling him about the time she had caught Argus Filch leaving a suspiciously wrapped package on the school librarian’s desk last Valentine’s Day.

They always sat together until they heard movement from upstairs and then went their separate ways. They never tried to continue the conversations or even mentioned them during the day.

Hermione felt like they were a special secret she carried with her through the day and felt that she got to know Fred, and even George, through them.

"So what are you planning to do when you’re through with Hogwarts then? I know you and George don’t care about N.E.W.T.’s any more than your O.W.L.’s.” Hermione asked the morning after they had gotten their Hogwarts letters.

She was surprised to see Fred hesitate before answering. He frowned at the table.

“Well, about that. We have been giving it a lot of thought. I mean we only have two more years at Hogwarts left. We want to open a joke shop, kind of like Zonko’s. But with our own products and merchandise, you know? We’ve been designing different products this summer, you may have heard some of the, er, explosions.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed at this as she thought about it.

“Well, go ahead. Say it’s a ridicul-,” Fred said.

“I think it’s a really excellent idea,” Hermione replied calmly.

“You’re kidding. You think so?”

Fred looked utterly dumbfounded at her.

“I do, as it happens,” Hermione looked Fred in the eye as she continued to speak.

“Smart as you both are, I can’t say I see you or George sitting at a desk at the Ministry. I think you are both rather, um, uniquely suited to run a joke shop, and goodness knows, creative enough. It’s incredibly brave to start your own business. When Mum and Dad opened up their practice, she said it was the most terrifying but liberating day of her life, getting to be her own boss,” she said.

Fred looked at her for a moment, as though he couldn’t believe his ears. Not only was Hermione the first person he had told about the idea for the shop, but she also wasn’t reacting at all in the way he’d expected.

He had expected her to tut at him and tell him that he and George should grow up, buckle down and follow Percy’s footsteps to the Ministry like their mother, but here she was telling him she thought it was a good idea and that he was brave for trying to boot.

He felt the tips of his ears burning as he reached out and grabbed her hand without thinking about it.

“Thanks, Hermione,” he said with a smile as he squeezed it.

Hermione looked at their hands, still clasped. Her cheeks went pink for a moment and then she shook her head to clear it.

She pulled her hands up to tuck her hair behind her ears as she asked, “Have you thought of a business name yet?”

“Well yeah, actually we have…"

******************************

The next few mornings brought with them order forms and some of the blueprints for products that he and George had been developing.

“Hmm…I think you and George have the basic formula correct for these, what did you call them, Skiving Snackboxes? I agree that Doxy eggs would give you a faster initial reaction, but Venomous Tentactula Seeds are more slowly digested, which would guarantee the boxes would work longer as needed. Hmm, but those are a Class C Non-Tradable Substance,” Hermione muttered as she flipped through pages upon pages of Fred and George’s notes.

“Venomous Tentactula seeds! That’s brilliant! Hermione, we need you on as our research specialist.”

She gave a dismissive laugh as she continued reading, absorbed in the notes.

“Fire Salamander ashes for the Fever Fudge? That could work. Fred…,” Hermione said slowly with dawning comprehension.

“How exactly are you planning to test these products?”

Hermione sat apprehensively, as though she already knew the answer.

“Uh, well, we have been planning to test them out on ourselves,” Fred said sheepishly as though he was hoping she never asked that particular question.

“But that’s incredibly dangerous! What if one of you is seriously hurt?” Hermione exclaimed.

“Well, that hasn’t happened yet.”

“But it could!”

“So far you’ve looked at just about every note we’ve made and we trust your judgment if you say we are on the right track. Frankly, I’ve half a mind to start having you just look over all our recipes for us,” Fred said confidently.

“What? Why would you just blindly trust my opinion!? I’m not a potioneer or a healer or even remotely qualified!”

“Well, you managed to brew a Polyjuice Potion when you were 13 years old and you bother to pay attention when Snape is talking in class. You memorize magical theory textbooks for fun. If I was going to trust anyone with this aside from George, it would have to be you. And that’s not just because you are the only other one who knows about Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes,” Fred said, as though he were trying to explain to her that two and two made four.

Hermione didn’t know what to say for a moment.

She meant to say thank you, but instead, it came out, “You know about the Polyjuice Potion?”

“I don’t pretend to understand everything you, Ron, and Harry get up to every year, but Ron told us most of what happened in your second year since it had to do with Ginny. Brewing that potion was seriously impressive,” Fred said.

Hermione felt her cheeks burning. She looked back down at the notes with a smile.

“Well, I still don’t think you should be testing these on yourselves, but I suppose I can help make sure you are in the right direction.”

*******************

About ten minutes later, both Hermione and Fred heard a bedroom door open upstairs and the bathroom door close. Hermione hastily gathered up all the notes and looked over to Fred.

“Can I hold on to these? I wanted to check a few things in some of my books upstairs. I can give them back to you tomorrow morning,” she said, looking up at him.

Fred looked apprehensive. He and George had agreed that they both trusted Hermione to check over their blueprints, but just giving her the only copy of their notes seemed risky. Hermione seemed to pick up on his hesitation.

“The notes will be in my trunk in Ginny’s room, locked up any time I’m not looking them over. I’ll even give you and George the spare key if that would make you feel better.”

“This is the only copy we have Hermione. You swear they will be safe?” Fred looked at her seriously.

“Cross my heart, hope to die,” Hermione replied with a grin as she made an X over her chest.

“What?”

Fred looked at her curiously.

Laughing Hermione explained, “I guess that’s just a Muggle saying then. It’s a rhyme, ‘cross my heart and hope to die or stick a needle in my eye.’ It’s just an elaborate way of saying, yes I promise.”

“Barking mad,” Fred muttered, shaking his head as he headed out of the kitchen.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she scooped up all the notes and headed upstairs to Ginny’s room to lock them away until she could look over them in private.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I won't be updating this frequently all the time but I was so thrilled that people liked the first chapter, I couldn't resist adding the second. Every single like and comment made my heart so happy! I'm hoping to fall into a pattern of once a week though to give myself plenty of time to write and have a creative dry spell or two if need be so the next update will either be right before my vacation next week or more likely when I get back. 
> 
> So if you are a huge book purist like I am, you may have noticed that there were two small changes I made. One is the fact that Hermione arrived at the Burrow a week before the Quidditch World Cup in my story instead of the day before Harry and the little shoutout to Harry's hilarious quip in HBP about Filch and Madam Pince having a relationship. I have to say, I agree with Harry. They are both awful people, they deserve each other.
> 
> Please do take the time to like and review this story if you haven't. Your kind words are truly the lifeblood that sustains me. :)
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> Edit (4/26/20): I went through and cleaned this chapter up as well. :) Most of my edits in this chapter were grammatical in nature thankfully so it was much easier than Chapter 1!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any part of the Harry Potter Universe. I just use it as my creative playground.

“Yes!” Fred cheered.

He had just made a spectacular goal and pumped his fists in the air in celebration. He hated to admit it, but Ron would be a fair Keeper if he had a decent broom. Fred actually had to try now to score against him. He and George had practiced with Ron every summer since Charlie left Hogwarts and Ron had gotten a lot better over the last few years. However, when it was just the three of them, they were limited to just running Quaffle drills, goal scoring, and using Ron for target practice with the one Bludger they owned. Funnily enough, Ron didn’t particularly care for those exercises so it was mostly just goal scoring and drills. He couldn’t wait until Harry arrived the following day along with Bill and Charlie so they could play a proper game.

“What time are we picking Harry up again tomorrow? Be nice to actually have enough for three-a-side.” George called out, seeming to read Fred’s thoughts as he always did.

“Well, Dad said the Floo Network connection should be approved by tomorrow afternoon so I told Harry five o'clock. Shame we couldn’t get it last week so he could have just come when Hermione did.” Ron replied as flew over slowly on his old Shooting Star.

“Yeah, plus he’s got the best broom.” George laughed, watching Ron inch his way forward on his tired old broomstick.

“Stupid, useless thing. Barely worth using to sweep the floor.” Ron muttered as he tried to spur the broom on. It seemed to sense his frustration and stopped obstinately in midair, causing him to fall forward and hit his nose on the handle.

Fred and George roared with laughter at Ron as he swore and rubbed his nose for a few minutes until they noticed two figures running toward them. A moment later, they realized it was Hermione and Ginny, both looking nervous and worried. As they flew down to meet them, Ginny called out,

“Fred, George! You need to get to the house now. Mum’s in a right state.”

“What?” George looked nonplussed. “How can she be? We’ve been out here all day with Ron and we haven’t even done anything to him yet.”

“She was cleaning in your room.” Hermione continued, twisting her fingers in her hands.

“She came down with a stack of flyers, order forms by the looks of them," Hermione said, raising her eyebrows meaningfully at them both.

“Oh dear,” Fred said in a croaking voice, feeling himself growing pale. George made an odd squelching noise in his throat. They looked at each other panicked. Sure, they had known this day would come, but they had both rather hoped they would be able to just surprise their mother with the news the day the shop opened.

“She seems really angry.” Hermione fretted anxiously.

“What are they?” Ron questioned, touching down next to the group.

George opened his mouth but before he could say anything, they heard a thunderous shout,

“Fred! George! Come here this instant!” Mrs. Weasley’s angry voice came from the back door of the house.

“Better go, you know it’s best to let her get it out now than give her time to steam,” Ginny advised, as though sending them off to the gallows. Ron nodded gravely while Hermione looked back at the house nervously.

As he and George made their way back, Fred realized that not only did he not have a good excuse for the forms, he didn’t want to bother with one. This was their career, and they were going to be of age soon anyway. If they were serious about this, well now was the time to own up to it.

“The truth then?” Fred chewed his bottom lip nervously as he looked over to George. They had nearly reached the front gate.

“Might as well, I reckon. She was going to find out eventually.” George sighed as he unlatched the gate.

They braced themselves as they entered the backdoor and into the kitchen. Fred saw on the kitchen table where just hours ago he and Hermione were reviewing notes, Mrs. Weasley had spread out all the order forms, some of the trick wands and sweets they had spent the better part of the last eight months developing. Fred did note however with a bit of relief that the notes he had given to Hermione that morning and some of the more developed products weren’t on the table. That meant she hadn’t found the hiding place underneath the floorboard in the closet.

Mrs. Weasley was seated at the table with her reading glasses on, looking at the order forms with a look of disgust on her face. As they came to the table, she took the glasses off, laid them on the table carefully, and looked up at them. 

“Would you two care to explain to me what all of this is?” she said, in a dangerous voice.

It was amazing, Fred thought, the way that she didn’t even have to raise her voice to send fear coursing down their spines.

“Ah, well, Mum-,” Fred began but he was abruptly cut off.

“Because it looks like a case for the Improper Use of Magic Office to me!” Mrs. Weasley shouted, rising to her feet.

“Well you have been asking us over and over what we plan to do after Hogwarts,” George said in what he clearly thought was a winning tone.

“I see. And just what is it that you’ve been planning?” she seethed, eyes flashing.

Fred exchanged a look with George who nodded.

“We’re opening up a joke shop,” Fred said with as much authority as he could muster. He gritted his teeth together waiting for the explosion.

Mrs. Weasley’s mouth dropped open, stunned. Whatever she had expected, clearly this wasn’t it.

Feeling emboldened, George continued, “Those are order forms for us to start taking mail orders. We figured we could take mail orders until we are more established. We’ve been developing products for months now.”

Mrs. Weasley found her voice and croaked, “Orders? You’ve been planning to sell these, these things to people?! Ridiculous! I expect this is the source of all those explosions, is it? If you two put half as much effort into studying for your O.W.L.’s as you have into all this nonsense, maybe you would have gotten more than six put together!”

George scoffed under his breath and muttered, “Yeah, so we could follow perfect Percy right to the Ministry?”

“Mum, we don’t care about O.W.L.’s or N.E.W.T.’s. We don’t need them to open a joke shop.” Fred told his mother, rolling his eyes. This was a huge mistake.

Mrs. Weasley bellowed, “DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR O.W.L.’S? DON’T CARE ABOUT N.E.W.T.’S DO YOU? WELL, MAYBE YOU’LL CARE WHEN YOU AND YOUR BROTHER HAVE A FINE TIME TRYING TO FIND REAL JOBS INSTEAD OF PUTTING ALL YOUR FAITH IN A SHOP FULL OF MAGIC TRICKS!”

George set his jaw and said firmly, “Mum, this is what we want to do after Hogwarts. This is all we want to do, whether you like it or not.” Fred set his jaw the same way, nodding his agreement and folded his arms over his chest.

“I ABSOLUTELY FORBID IT! AS LONG AS YOU ARE IN MY HOUSE, I FORBID YOU BOTH TO CREATE OR SELL ANY MORE OF THIS NONSENSE!” Mrs. Weasley shrieked.

She looked positively mad, even more than the time Fred and George had blown up one of the girl’s toilets at Hogwarts and mailed Ginny the toilet seat, claiming they were acting on her suggestion. With a wave of her wand, Mrs. Weasley sent everything on the table soaring into the living room fireplace. She stood there, her eyes flashing daggers at the two of them. With open mouths, Fred and George glared at their mother, the fire, and then each other. In one unified motion they both turned and stomped out of the room, and up the stairs, slamming the door to their room behind them as hard as George could manage.

Looking around the room, they could see that Mrs. Weasley had indeed gotten all of the order forms and most of the trick wands and sweets that had been littered around their desks. George stood to watch by the door while Fred went to the closet to check under the floorboard. With a sigh of relief, he saw that it was indeed still full of Ton-Tongue Toffees and finished Trick Wands. He replaced the floorboard, and turned back to George.

“Everything is still there. I suppose it was just a stroke of luck that Hermione has the blueprints right now, or Mum would have gotten them too.” Fred sighed in relief as he sank onto the floor.

George’s face didn’t relax however as he said in a harsh voice,

“Was it though? How do we know it wasn’t Hermione who ran off and told Mum about the shop?”

Fred scoffed, “No way, come off it. She wouldn’t do that. Why would she? She’s been looking over our notes for the last week, if she wanted to tell Mum she could have done it a week ago.”

George raised an eyebrow, “She told McGonagall last year about Harry’s Firebolt because she thought it wasn’t safe.”

“So, what? That was different. She had this mad idea that Sirius Black got it for him.” Fred shook his head in disbelief .

“And today you told her that we were testing products on ourselves. You told me yourself she didn’t like it. She might’ve told Mum because she thinks it’s not safe.” George continued resolutely.

Fred shook his head again in disbelief, but a nagging voice in the back of his head told him that he had to admit that it would make sense. Even if she thought she was doing the right thing, he could easily imagine Hermione going to Mrs. Weasley to set them straight. He wanted to change the subject though so he didn’t have to consider that Hermione might have betrayed their trust.

“Well at any rate, I suppose that could have gone worse.” He told George.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” George said with a grin, shaking his head as he laughed. “You’ll notice that she’s only forbidden us from creating more and selling it in the house, right?”

“Right you are George. She didn’t say anything about replenishing our stock of already developed products or testing them out.” Fred grinned.

“Or making more new products when we get to Hogwarts as we won’t be under her roof then,” George smirked back.

Taking out one of the Ton-Tongue Toffees he had grabbed from the closet, Fred held it up for George to see as he continued, “In fact, I’ve been thinking. I think we should take Hermione’s advice not to test these out on ourselves for a while. I think we need a larger test sample… if you get my meaning.” He finished with an evil grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from vacation! We went to Dragoncon this year in Atlanta and had a BLAST!!!!! We have friends in Georgia who were also going so it was a two for one visit. We had so much fun. I did four different cosplays and one of the nightly parties at Dragoncon was a Harry Potter themed Yule Ball! I wish I had known about it in advance, I would have done a Harry Potter cosplay. Oh well, there's always next year. I took the next two days off work to recuperate, relax, hang out with my husband and maybe write some more of this tale. :D
> 
> We've finally moved out of the kitchen! I feel like this story is finally picking up and I'm so excited for the action to really unfold. What did you guys think of Fred's little bit of foreshadowing to using the Ton-Tongue Toffees on Dudley? ;)
> 
> One scene I did not enjoy writing and found pretty difficult was the fight between Mrs. Weasley and Fred and George even if it did happen in the books. I adore Molly Weasley and hate the times when she is less than supportive of her children so I hated having to delve into that side of her personality. I really like to think that her fears about Fred and George opening the shop were never about squashing their dreams and were really just well-meaning concerns over their safety and success. Molly Weasley really is an amazing mother and I hate when she is made out to be this heartless shrew in some fics. Rest assured that this will not be a Weasley bashing story. 
> 
> As always, I would love to hear what I got really right or wrong! Up to this point, I've been posting chapters that have been written. I'm hoping to still update on Tuesday but I have to admit that the next chapter is really getting me. Until next time!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always, I don't own any part of the Harry Potter Universe. I just like to play around in it.

Hermione beat Fred down to the kitchen the next morning, feeling exhausted but pleased. She’d spent most of the previous night researching and had what she hoped were some good notes to give Fred and George. She had looked into the specifics on the Ban on Experimental Breeding and while she still didn’t understand why exactly someone would want to breed miniature Puffskiens, she felt sure that she had found a loophole in the law for Fred and George to do it. She hoped it would cheer him up after last night. She, Ron, and Ginny had heard most of the row between the twins and Mrs. Weasley and then again when Mr. Weasley had gotten home. Fred and George hadn’t come down from their room for the rest of the day and had flat out refused to speak to Mrs. Weasley when they were forced to come down for dinner.

Hermione checked her watch again and looked behind her to find Fred standing in the doorway, his usual smile vacant from his face.

“There you are! I was beginning to wonder if you were going to come down at all.” Hermione began brightly, the smile falling from her face as Fred’s expression remained stony. “Um, is everything okay?”

“Let’s go for a walk. I’d rather not talk under the same roof as Mum right now.” He said flatly.

Well Hermione could understand that. It made sense, after the previous night, that Fred and George would want to be more cautious about the shop.

Hermione stood from the table and followed Fred out the back door. As Fred had come down a bit later than usual, the sun was already making its steady progress over the orchard. The crisp air promised that it would be a great day. They walked in silence for a while along the path toward the clearing the boys used as a Quidditch pitch, apprehension starting to seep back into her thoughts again. Feeling she couldn’t take much more of the silence, Hermione asked nervously, “Did your mum destroy everything last night?”

“Yeah, she did,” Fred said harshly. “Strange she decided to clean in our room yesterday, huh?”

“Well it may not have gone exactly to plan, but you were eventually going to tell her, weren’t you?” Hermione reasoned.

“Yeah we were, but it was our decision to make, not yours.” Fred threw back sharply.

“What? I never said you had to-“ Hermione broke off, rather confused now. She never told Fred that he had to tell Mrs. Weasley about the shop. When she and Ginny had come down to tip them off, she had taken extra care to make sure she didn’t spill the beans herself in front of Ron and Ginny.

“Why are you so interested in helping us Hermione?” Fred asked coldly.

Now Hermione felt really confused. Where was this coming from? Sure Mrs. Weasley had been hard on them, but why was Fred acting like it was her fault?

“I don’t know what you mean. Where is this coming from?” She asked.

“You know, I’ve been trying to figure out why you’ve been so interested in the shop. Didn’t really seem to fit in with your ‘rules first, friends second’ attitude.” Fred said with narrowed eyes.

Understanding finally hit her. Hermione blanched as anger began to take the place of the apprehension she had been feeling.

“Fred,” Hermione began slowly, narrowing her own eyes. “Why don’t you just ask me flat out whatever it is that you want to ask me.”

“Why did you have to go tell Mum about the shop?” Fred asked harshly.

Hermione felt her body go cold with the outright accusation. She answered him, her own anger now punctuating each word. “ I didn’t tell anyone about it. Not even Ron and Ginny last night.”

Fred shook his head at her in disbelief. “Then how is it that Mum, who hasn’t gone in to “clean our room” in years, decides to go in there THE day I tell you about us testing products on ourselves? You know, I do understand why you would feel like you needed to but we trusted you. This isn’t like Harry’s broomstick last year, this is our career. If you would just apologize for it, maybe we could move along.”

Hermione felt her cheeks go scarlet as he reminded her of the Firebolt. She wanted to tell him that she’d been right all along about the broom, but held back. Instead she raged, “I don’t have anything to apologize for! I didn’t tell her to go into your room, I didn’t tell her about any of it!”

Furious, she pulled the notes out from her back jeans pocket. “Here, take them back since you don’t trust me. I’m through with all of it.”

She threw the notes down on the grass as hard as she could and spun around. She walked as quickly as she could, willing the angry tears in her eyes not to fall until she had made it back to the house. So stupid, she thought to herself. She couldn’t believe it. She'd actually thought she and Fred were getting on well and becoming friends, but he and George were just like most of the other students of Hogwarts. Sure that her loyalty to her friends only extended until she found someone to tattle to. When she got back to the house, she went straight up to Ginny’s room and threw herself under the covers of her bed, hoping she would be able to compose herself before Ginny woke up.

Fred felt ashamed of how the conversation had gone as soon as Hermione was gone. He had spent the night thinking about the conversation he and George had had. While he had intended to talk to Hermione about the whole situation, he had let his temper get the better of him. He agreed with George that Hermione had surely been the one to tip their mother off about the shop, but he felt equally sure that it had come from a place of concern. He and George had agreed that if Hermione would just admit she had told Mrs. Weasley about the shop and apologized, they would be happy to forgive her and move on. He shook his head in frustration however when he thought about how she had refused to take any blame for what had happened.

He scooped up the notes and slowly walked back toward the house himself. Fred had been truthful when he said he didn’t want to discuss the shop in the main part of the house anymore so he flipped through the notes as he walked and stopped when he got to the pages on Pygmy Puffs.

Pygmy Puffs were a half-serious idea borne out of sleep deprivation and close proximity to potion fumes. George had been raving about how Muggles had their tiny dogs and pets they took everywhere they went, and Fred had reasoned that Wizards should be able to have tiny pets too. However, the next day when they had considered the Ban on Experimental Breeding, they had assumed they wouldn’t be able to even try to breed them and had just written the idea off. Fred hadn’t even realized the pages were still in the notes he had given Hermione. He saw her neat notes on the Ban on Experimental Breeding and some more on how Muggles had bred dogs over the years to be smaller and more domestic. The loophole in the law was that Puffskiens were already a magical species and Pygmy Puffs would just be a version of that same species bred smaller and smaller over time.

Fred felt the gnawing guilt again. Hermione had spent who knows how long on doing this research, for them. Even if she did tell their mother about the shop, she hadn’t given their notes to her. Biting his lip, Fred knew that he needed to apologize. Her heart had been in the right place after all. Heading back toward the house, he resolved that he would find her and apologize for the way he had acted this morning.  
On second thought, he reasoned, thinking back on the time Ron had told him about Hermione slapping Draco Malfoy, Fred thought perhaps he would give her the chance to cool down first.

**********************

“Boys, have you seen my _Healer’s Helpmate_? Ginny said she thought you had taken it, but I didn’t find it in your bedroom yesterday.” Mrs. Weasley asked Fred and George over breakfast, her back to them as she flipped a few more pieces of bacon in the pan with a flick of her wand.

A cold realization began to form in the pit of Fred’s stomach. He put the forkful of eggs almost to his mouth back down on his plate and looked over to George, who similarly looked as though he were putting the pieces together.

“Yeah Mum, it’s in the living room on the shelf by the fireplace,” George told her.

“So, uh, Mum? Where’s everyone else at?" Fred hoped he had sounded casual enough not to rouse his mother’s suspicions.

“Ron and Ginny decided to go down to the village this morning to show Hermione around. I’m going down to meet them after breakfast and the girls and I are going to Diagon Alley to get started with some of the Hogwarts shopping. You know there are six of you to shop for this year with Harry and Hermione?” She laughed to herself.

“Why do you ask?” she continued.

“Just wondering if Ron was around for a game of Quidditch before we get Harry,” Fred said brightly.

Mrs. Weasley didn’t seem to notice though as she swiftly directed her wand to the sink where the breakfast dishes began washing and rinsing themselves. “Well I expect Ron will be busy today. He needs to clean his bedroom for all of you to stay in. Which reminds me, have the two of you finished your bedroom for Bill and Charlie yet?”

“Mum, Bill, and Charlie don’t care what our room looks like. Why can’t one of them just stay with Percy and we can keep our room?” George complained.

“Besides, didn’t you already clean it out for us,” Fred muttered bitterly to the table.

“I only got rid of that dangerous nonsense you two concocted, young man! Your brother is doing important work for the Ministry of Magic! That is why he isn’t sharing his bedroom and you know it. If you two want to keep your bedroom to yourselves so badly, maybe you could start applying yourselves toward something productive and not more of this rubbish!” Mrs. Weasley started to seethe and had put her hands on her hips. Fred could sense another row coming.

“Keep your hair on, Mum,” George said, rolling his eyes. “We’ll clean up our room.”

“And if you and your brother have so much free time, you can help Ron finish his room when he gets back. Bill and Charlie should both be here around midday and I want it done before they get here!” Mrs. Weasley barked at them turning her attention back to the dishes, which were now drying themselves and floating into the open cupboards.

“Well, George. I’m finished here. Think I’ll get a head start on that cleaning, what do you say?” Fred said with a meaningful glance at George.

“Right you are, Fred. Thanks for breakfast, Mum.” George chimed in brightly. He grabbed the toast off his plate before placing it in the sink and following Fred back out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

When they made it to their room however, Fred dropped on to his bed and put his head in his hands. “George..,” he moaned, trailing off.

“I know,” George said, biting his lip. “We couldn’t have known, we had every reason to think, I mean…” He too trailed off, knowing that he and Fred had behaved terribly to Hermione.

“I should have listened to her. She tried to tell me and I just didn’t listen.”

Fred shook his head miserably.

“Well, there’s nothing to do about the past. Now, you just have to apologize.” George said with a shrug.

“Me? What about you, you prat?” Fred said indignantly.

“I have nothing to apologize for, dear brother,” George replied with a grin. “After all, I’m not the one who yelled at her this morning.

“At any rate, you can’t do anything about it until she gets back with Mum and Ginny, so no use worrying about it.” George continued shrugging, before starting to scoop up a few stray bits of parchment off the floor. One of the best and worst things about George was how absolute he was about everything. He never worried about the outcome of things he felt he couldn’t change. George always said this was because he knew Fred would worry enough about it for both of them.

The two of them spent most of the morning cleaning their room, which largely consisted of hiding any Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes’ items and notes. Fred and George had decided that they would carry the notes on them until they were back at Hogwarts and could duplicate and hide them better.

At about half-past eleven, George straightened up after replacing the rug over one of the loose floorboards in the room. “I feel like a ruddy house-elf.”

Fred grinned, “Yeah, just without the job satisfaction.”

Downstairs they heard a door open and a deep voice call out, “What kind of welcome is this for the return of the prodigal sons?”

Fred and George sprung up and heard Ron’s door fly open upstairs. The three of them ran downstairs like children on Christmas to find Bill and Charlie bringing their bags over the threshold.

As they shook hands and clapped each other on the back in greeting, Fred could see that not only had Bill refused to cut his hair since their holiday in Egypt but now had a dangling fang hanging from one of his ears too.

“Mum’s going to love that, Bill” Ron grinned with a jealous expression on his face, seeing the earring too.

“I told him the same thing. Maybe it’ll keep her from asking when I’m going to ‘stop chasing those horrible creatures and find a more sensible job, one closer to home’.” Charlie mimicked Mrs. Weasley, rolling his eyes as he stretched his arms over his head.

“I daresay Fred and I have been disappointing her so much lately that she may not have the time,” George said proudly.

“Ah yes,” Bill said with an exasperated tone as he sunk into one of the kitchen chairs, “Mum did mention something about that. She wants me to ‘talk some sense into you both’.”

“Is this about Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes?” Ron asked, brow raised. Fred wanted to tell Ron to keep his large nose out of their business, but he knew Bill and Charlie wouldn’t be impressed with that. He settled for shooting Ron a dirty look before biting his lip and looking at George. While he certainly didn’t think Bill or Charlie would lecture them the way Mrs. Weasley had, they cared more about Bill and Charlie’s approval more than anyone else in the family.

“Well,” George began hesitantly. He looked around to make sure no one else was home. Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Hermione were supposed to be gone all day, Mr. Weasley had gone to check that the Floo Network connection had been finalized, Percy was at the Ministry and wouldn’t be home until someone dragged him away from his desk.

“It’s about what we want to do after Hogwarts. I mean, we are going into our 6th year this year. We have to start thinking about it soon, don’t we?” Fred continued.

“So, you’ve decided to start a life of crime selling leaky cauldrons? Be like old Dung Fletcher?” Charlie guessed with a smirk as he started to search through the cupboards. Charlie, like Ron, could eat the whole family out of house and home and seemed to always be hungry.

“No, but you would think so with how Mum has been reacting. We want to, um, we want to open a joke shop. Like Zonko’s. But us, ours. Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.” Fred said in a rush.

Three pairs of eyes blinked back at him.

Then Charlie started laughing and said, “That’s brilliant, that is.”

Ron’s mouth dropped open in amazement as he shook his head. “Amazing.”

Bill grinned and said, “That’s not a bad idea. I mean it’s actually a ruddy excellent one, but I suppose Mum would rather you two found safe and respectable jobs, maybe be a little bit more like dear Percy?”

“Right in one.” George scowled.

“But what was that row about? It can’t have been just about you telling her you want to open up a shop.” Ron’s brow furrowed as he thought about it.

“It wasn’t. She found some of the things we’ve been uh, developing. And the order forms too.” George hedged.

“Right before she chucked them in the fire,” Fred muttered darkly.

“Wait, is that why there have been all those explosions coming from your room? You’ve been making things?” Ron’s jaw seemed to have become permanently unhinged and hung open.

“And we might have also mentioned that we didn’t care about O.W.L.’s or N.E.W.T.’s.” George scratched the back of his neck and looked away as he said this.

This time Bill joined Charlie as they both roared with laughter.

“Oh, I wish I hadn’t missed that. I’ll bet Mum was ready to spit fire.” Charlie said wiping tears from his eyes.

“Well lads, I don’t envy you the fight you’re in for with Mum over it, but if you are serious about it, I think it sounds brilliant,” Bill said. Charlie and Ron nodded enthusiastically.

“I can’t believe you’re going to take down Zonko’s!” Charlie said, shaking his head.

“I can’t believe how much gold you two are going to make,” Ron said, a hint of jealousy coloring his tone.

Fred couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face. He hadn’t mentioned them to George, but after the last few days, doubts had begun to creep in over the shop. Hearing the approval of his two oldest brothers, and even Ron had served to banish them. He felt the first grin since the day before spreading over his face.

“What do you guys say to a bit of Quidditch before Dad gets back?” Charlie said, his eyes looking longingly on the orchard.

“Excellent,” Bill grinned as Ron whooped in excitement.

“We can actually play three-a-side when Harry gets here!” Ron said excitedly.

With identical grins, Fred and George followed them out to the broom shed to go grab their equipment. With a fleeting thought, he could have sworn he had put his broom on the other side of the shed but dismissed it thinking he must not have been paying attention to where he put it last night since he had been so out of sorts. The only ones who used the shed were himself, Ron and George, anyway. Who else could it have been, Ginny? He laughed to himself at the idea, shaking his head as he mounted his broom and kicked off.

The five of them spent the rest of the afternoon playing two vs. three-player Quidditch. Charlie had brought a Snitch with him and alternated Seeking for both teams.

Finally they heard Mr. Weasley calling for them to come down. With a jolt of excitement, Fred reached into his pocket to make sure the package of Ton-Tongue Toffees was still there. He gave George a small thumbs up with a grin. As they went back to the house, Fred rehearsed the plan in his mind again.

He and George would offer to go get Harry’s trunk. When they found Dudley, they would “drop” a few of the sweets. They didn’t know exactly what he looked like, but they knew from Harry that he was a miserable fat git who looked "rather like a pig in a wig". It couldn’t be difficult. They knew Dudley was on a diet from Harry’s letters and were sure he would take the bait. Dad would be able to shrink his tongue in a second if something went wrong, but they were positive the toffees would work as they had designed. They had tested them on Kenneth Towler last term to great success after all. It was a simple Engorgement Charm, it would wear off on its own in less than ten minutes without help. And if Dad got mad, they would just tell him they had “dropped” the Toffees. It wasn’t their fault if the great oaf decided to pick it up and eat it.

Mr. Weasley was embracing Charlie and shaking Bill’s hand when they made it in the house. Ron was calling to them impatiently in the living room that it was already twenty-five minutes past five o'clock, “Dad, come on! I told Harry five o'clock!”

“I can’t change how long it takes to authorize a Floo connection, Ron. I’m sure Harry’s aunt and uncle will understand.” Mr. Weasley replied dismissively, but he still made his way to the fireplace.

“We’ll only be a moment if you’re both sure you don’t want to come along. Just have to collect Harry from his aunt and uncle. Then we can sit and have a real chat," he called out to Bill and Charlie.

“Nah Dad, I think we’ll just pop in on Perce and say hello. See how the inner workings of the Ministry are coming along.” Charlie grinned as he and Bill headed toward the staircase.

Mr. Weasley threw a bit of Floo Powder into the fireplace and stepped into the green flames.

“Number 4 Privet Drive!” He said authoritatively. With a whoosh of green flame and smoke, he was gone.

Excitedly, Fred grabbed a pinch and elbowed his way past Ron.

“What are you two so excited to go for?” Ron grumbled as George too pushed his way ahead.

“You’ll see, Ronniekins. We’re just going to have a bit of fun.” George smirked as Fred stepped into the pleasantly cool green flames.

“Number 4, Privet Drive!” Fred shouted. Feeling himself spin very fast, George and Ron were whipped out of sight. He spun faster and faster before the familiar feeling of being pushed off a spinning ride caused him to come to an abrupt halt. When he stopped, he slammed into someone in complete darkness.

He could tell it was his father from the “ooof” Mr. Weasley had made when Fred had knocked into him. Before he could say a word though, he heard the sounds of people screaming and scrambling away.

He heard Harry’s voice on the other side of where ever they were shout, “What happened? What’s the matter?”

Oh yes, he thought with a grin. This was going to be very fun indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you guys think of this extra long chapter? :D As we move out of the kitchen conversations, I'm finding that the chapters are getting more fun to write. I really hope this lasts for the long haul. As it stands right now, I'm having a lot of trouble committing to a one chapter a week schedule because I love this story so much! I really love writing Fred and George dialogue and I have to say I wish Bill and Charlie had more of a presence in Goblet of Fire because they are so fun to write. I've actually toyed with the idea of writing a Hogwarts Mystery fic just so they could be the stars of a story, but I probably shouldn't get so ahead of myself. 
> 
> I will say that since we have reached the point in the story where Harry arrives on the scene as it were, the story will be moving a bit faster rather than going day by day. There will also be a lot more Fred POV since we already know where and what Hermione is doing most of the time. I love getting to have fun with his story and hope that it shows. Although I can't wait to write Hermione's feelings on house elves and the founding of S.P.E.W. 
> 
> As always, I love hearing what you guys loved or didn't love so much. Your comments and kudos rock my socks off. 
> 
> Until next time!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any part of the Harry Potter Universe. It all belongs to JKR. This chapter contains direct quotation from GOF
> 
> This chapter contains descriptions of assault, flashbacks, and panic attacks.

Hermione woke to the sounds of screaming. Looking around, she saw the small tent illuminated with a lamp on the wooden table. Outside though, she could see the orange glow of fires that seemed far too large to be campfires through the canvas of the tent. A thick, smoky haze had begun to fill her nostrils and it burned her nose and throat. Something was wrong, very wrong. Her heart racing, she leaped out of bed and called out, “Ginny!”

No one answered. She shook Ginny’s bunk, knowing she was a heavy sleeper but found it empty. The bedclothes were tossed open and the mattress was cold.

Hermione began to panic as she pulled her robe and slippers on. The smoke filling the tent was making her feel disoriented and panicked as she ran out of the tent, intending to go to the boys’ tent to look for the others. However, their tent was empty and they were nowhere to be found. Feeling stabs of real panic, Hermione looked frantically around her. The campsite was in chaos. She could see other tents on fire and hear people screaming. They seemed to be running away from something. In the distance, she could see people congregating around a group of hooded figures. The group seemed to be marching toward the tents, right toward her.

“Harry! Ron!” Hermione shrieked, pulling out her wand. Where was everyone? She began to run, her legs feeling like they were made of lead. As she ran, she called out, “Fred? Mr. Weasley? Bill?”

None of the screaming people seemed to pay her any mind. Hermione looked back and stopped in her tracks. There were two people suspended in air over the marchers. One a man who was spinning like a top, the other a woman in a familiar flowered nightdress. One of the marchers directed his wand at the woman and turned her upside down, her nightdress revealing her bloomers. As the woman struggled to cover herself, Hermione screamed with recognition,

“MUM! DAD!”

She began running again, this time toward the crowd, her wand raised. She elbowed her way through the crowd to get to them. As she broke through the crowd, one of the hooded figures drawled, “That’s one of them. Get the filthy Muggle.”  
  
Draco Malfoy lowered his hood and smirked with glee at her, “I told you. You should have hurried off when you had the chance. There’s no one left to protect you now.”

Another taller hooded figure came over to stand next to Malfoy. The figure pulled out its wand and pointed it at Hermione. She wanted to lift her wand, to use any spell she could think of, but it was gone. She looked on the ground frantically, searching her pockets.

"How charming." The taller figure drawled. "Doesn't it know that only witches have wands?"

Hermione wanted to run, anything. She felt frozen in place, both with fear and because she couldn’t leave her parents. She couldn’t even open her mouth cry out in alarm as she felt herself rising in the air. She heard the crowd jeer and hoot with laughter as she began to cartwheel in the air.

Hermione wanted to scream. She felt sick, she was definitely going to be sick. The blood was starting to rush her in her ears so loud she couldn’t hear a thing. Malfoy raised his wand at her and as he mouthed a spell she couldn’t hear, Hermione woke up with a gasp.

It took Hermione a moment, paralyzed with fear, to remember that the World Cup had been over for days and that she was back in her shared room with Ginny at the Burrow. Then she had to scramble out of bed and run down the hall to the bathroom to be sick. She shuddered over the toilet as she felt the bile burning the back of her throat.

The nightmare hadn’t changed. If anything, it felt even more terrifying because it was always the same. Everyone had left her behind, and it was her parents being held in the air instead of the Roberts family. She was always powerless to save them or herself. Malfoy was always there and so was a faceless man she assumed was Mr. Malfoy. She never had her wand when it mattered and she always woke up paralyzed with fear. This was the first day she had been sick over the nightmare however. She splashed some water on her face and brushed her teeth before looking at her watch. It was 4:30 in the morning. She knew that if she went back to bed, she probably wouldn’t have the nightmare again. However, something seemed to shake Hermione more about it tonight than other nights. The idea of risking seeing her parents spinning around in the air again was too much to bear. She didn’t think she could handle it twice in one night.

Instead, Hermione went down to the kitchen where she made a strong cup of tea. The silence in the kitchen, once so peaceful, suddenly felt overwhelming. The walls seemed to be closing in, and Hermione started to breathe faster as though the air in the room was getting thinner. She had to escape this room. Pouring her tea, she pushed the back door open as the ringing in her ears started up again. She went out on to the back porch, breathing in the crisp air like it was her first breath out of water. It had rained in the night and she could feel the cool mist in the air. She sat down on the back steps and sipped the tea, letting the cool night air and the strong tea flavor help settle her stomach as she tried to think about anything but the dream.

****************

Fred woke before his alarm at five. With a groan, he turned it off before it could ring. Sitting up, he looked around him. Harry had groaned in his sleep and rolled over, but otherwise no one seemed to notice anyone else was awake.

He wondered why he was even still bothering to try, Hermione hadn’t been down in the mornings all week. He pulled a shirt and jeans on and raked a hand through his hair. He had hardly gotten the chance to say two words to Hermione at the World Cup and then when they had gotten back, she had constantly been with Harry and Ron or else with Ginny. It had been impossible to get a moment alone to talk to her. He had been holding out hope that she would come down one morning so he could apologize to her, but she hadn’t come down at all this week. He tried to ignore the gnawing feeling of guilt that it was his fault.

Waiting for the sounds of Percy and Mr. Weasley using the fireplace in the living room to head out to the Ministry to die away before leaving Ron’s room, Fred told himself that if Hermione wasn’t downstairs today, he would find her no matter what so he could apologize. He had missed their talks, even the ones when she wasn’t helping him with the shop. Especially those, he thought miserably. Fred realized that he had come to know Hermione over the last few weeks, enough to consider her a friend. He didn’t want to apologize to Ron’s friend, he wanted to make things right between them because he missed her friendship. He had to make this right, he resolved as he stepped out into the hall. He went over his apology again and again in his head.

Fred still made his way down to the kitchen slowly, just in case his mother was awake. The room was empty, but he did notice the kettle on the stove. He touched it and found that it was still hot with fresh water. He heard a throat clear from outside the open window and peered out. He saw Hermione sitting motionless on the steps of the back garden, and was surprised to see that she looked like she had just woken up. Hermione never left Ginny’s room before being completely ready for the day. Today, however, she was wearing the pajama pants and t-shirt Fred assumed she slept in, her feet completely bare and her hair was even wilder than usual. Fred opened the door slowly, but Hermione still didn’t move. He said in a cautious voice as he sat beside her, “Hermione? Uh, are you all right?”

Hermione jumped slightly and brought one of her hands to her eyes, to rub them furiously. Fred looked away so she wouldn’t notice he had seen her crying.

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you,” she said in a frosty voice as she began to get to her feet, but Fred gently put a hand over her arm.

“No, please stay. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” Fred said quickly.

“Why?” Hermione didn’t look at Fred, but she did sit back down. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the railing. It was better than nothing.

“Right, well I did, um, I do. That is, are you okay?” This was not going as he had rehearsed in his head.

“I’m fine. Now please, do you actually have something to talk to me about?” Hermione’s voice was firm but her shaky breathing gave her away. She did look rather pale, but perhaps this wasn’t the time to press the issue.

“I wanted to apologize to you,” he said.

Hermione’s eyes snapped open at that, then narrowed.

“Apologize for what exactly?” She asked. 

“I’m sorry for the way I acted that morning. I’m sorry I accused you of telling Mum about the shop. I really did think that you told her though.” Fred continued.

“Is that supposed to make it better?” She asked acidly.

“Well, yeah. I mean no, it’s not.” Ears burning, Fred hung his head down between his legs. This was going much worse than he had planned.

“I know you didn’t tell Mum.” He muttered.

“Figured that out, have you?” she said bitterly, scowling.

“I’m sorry. I should have believed you.” Fred told the stairs.

“Yes, you should have. I thought we were friends, Fred.” Hermione said.

“I would like to think we are.” He answered sheepishly.

“Bringing up the Firebolt was a bit below the belt for a friend.” She scoffed.

“Yeah, well I’m sorry for that too, okay? I’m really sorry about everything! I was sorry the second you left. I wished I hadn’t said any of it. I should have trusted you, and I didn’t. I felt terrible about it then and I feel terrible about it now and I’ve been trying to find a time to apologize for it ever since!” Fred burst out, looking up to glare at her. A silence that felt like it went on for ages followed his pronouncement as Hermione glared back at him. ‘Oh great’, Fred thought. ‘I let my temper loose again and ruined things even more.’

Hermione finally cracked a small smile. “Okay then.” She said, taking a sip of her tea.

“You forgive me?” Fred laughed in relief.

“Now I forgive you.” She finally grinned.

“Well that’s good. I’ve been missing our little morning chats.” Fred grinned back at her.

“So have I.”

Hermione looked into her mug with a sigh; the tea had gone cold.

Fred bumped her knee with his.

“So what’s wrong? And don’t say nothing, you haven’t been down here at all this week.”

“How do you know I haven’t been down here at all this week?”

She raised an eyebrow curiously.

“I told you, I’ve been wanting to apologize. I’ve been coming down every morning hoping I’d have the chance to.” Fred told her with a shrug.

Hermione looked shocked and a bit touched by that. She smiled before biting the side of her lip while looking out toward the orchard.

“It might help to talk about it,” Fred suggested.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. After a moment she opened them and quickly recapped her recurring dream. Fred felt the blood draining from his face as she spoke. She’d been shaking when she began, but as she spoke, Hermione became more and more still. When she finished, she wasn’t even blinking.

Fred wasn’t sure what he should do. He had an inexplicable urge to wrap his arms around her protectively but instead reached for her hand cautiously. He took it in both of his and squeezed it reassuringly.

“I’m so sorry, Hermione.” He wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for. Maybe the lifetimes of wizards before him who put more value in the so-called purity of blood than actual magical merit, maybe for losing her, Harry and Ron in the woods that night, or maybe just for not being there to talk to her about the dream until today.

Hermione put her mug down and covered Fred’s hands with her own. She looked right at him and smiled.

“You’ve apologized for more than enough today. No need to apologize for something that isn’t your fault. You were right. Talking about it did help.”

She pulled her hands free and did something Fred didn’t expect. She gave him a tight hug and whispered in his ear,

“Thank you.” Fred brought his arms up to hug her back and they sat for a moment like that before Hermione broke away from him.

She stood up then and walked to the door. “Well I suppose I should probably go inside. I’m sure I look like a wreck.”

She grinned lifting a strand of her frizzier than usual hair.

“Nah, no worse than usual.” Fred grinned with a wink.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione went back inside.

Fred stayed out for a while longer, his stomach doing a bit of a somersault. He supposed it must be because of the conflicting emotions he was feeling; on the one hand, he felt relieved that Hermione had accepted his apology. The knot in his stomach he had been feeling for the last week had unraveled, but Hermione’s dream about what had happened at the World Cup was harder to shake from his mind. Sure he had been troubled by the World Cup, but he had been able to cast it from his mind without losing sleep over it. He felt ashamed when he considered what the entire ordeal must have felt like for someone like Hermione, for any Muggleborn. He would never be able to understand what that kind of automatic discrimination felt like. Families like the Malfoys who placed the so-called purity of blood over a person’s actual magical skill made his blood boil. He just wished there was something he could do about it.

********************

The last day of the holidays passed far too quickly and before anyone was ready, the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione found themselves in the living room waiting for Mr. Weasley to get home.

Rain lashed against the living room window. Hermione was immersed in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4. Charlie was darning a fireproof balaclava. Harry was polishing his Firebolt. Ginny sat next to Percy mending one of her textbooks with Spellotape while he, Mrs. Weasley, and Bill were having a conversation. Bill played Ron in a game of chess in between comments.

Fred hadn’t been paying much attention to any of it however. He and George were drafting a letter. It had taken them a few days to be completely sure that the gold Ludo Bagman had given them for their winnings had truly vanished and hadn’t simply been misplaced or stolen. They had searched the tent when they got back to the Burrow and a few subtle questions to Dad had confirmed that there had been enough anti-theft enchantments to prevent someone from getting inside and taking it. They strained to make the letter sound like they thought it was an honest mistake. After all, there had been enough leprechaun gold all over the Top Box during the Cup. He and George had stuffed their pockets as full as they could only to be bitterly disappointed to find that gold had gone too. Surely Bagman had made an honest mistake. If they wrote him and explained what happened, surely he would pay up, at least the gold they had given him in the first place.

“George, I’m telling you, I think we should say we THINK it vanished. So he doesn’t think we’re accusing him of something.” Fred argued in an urgent whisper.

“And I’m telling you that if we tell him that, he’s going to tell US that we must have lost it at the Cup and it’s not his problem,” George said stubbornly.

“Well you want to just go in accusing him of scamming us!” Fred said.

“He did!” George hissed.

“What are you two up to?” said Mrs. Weasley sharply, her eyes moving over to where Fred and George sat in the corner huddled over a piece of parchment.

“Homework,” said Fred vaguely.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re still on holiday,” said Mrs. Weasley.

“Yeah, we’ve left it a bit late,” said George.

“You’re not by any chance writing out a new order form, are you?” said Mrs. Weasley shrewdly. “You wouldn’t be thinking of restarting Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, by any chance?”

“Now, Mum,” said Fred, looking up at her, a pained look on his face. “If the Hogwarts Express crashed tomorrow, and George and I died, how would you feel to know that the last thing we ever heard from you was an unfounded accusation?”

Everyone laughed, even Mrs. Weasley.

“Oh your father’s coming!” she said suddenly, looking up at the clock again.

Mr. Weasley’s hand had suddenly spun from “work” to “traveling”; a second later it had shuddered to a halt on “home” with the others, and they heard him calling from the kitchen.

“Coming, Arthur!” called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying out of the room.

A few moments later, Mr. Weasley came into the warm living room carrying his dinner on a tray. He looked completely exhausted.

“Well, the fat’s really in the fire now,” he told Mrs. Weasley as he sat down in an armchair near the hearth and toyed unenthusiastically with his somewhat shriveled cauliflower. “Rita Skeeter’s been ferreting around all week, looking for more Ministry mess-ups to report. And now she’s found out about poor old Bertha going missing, so that’ll be the headline in the Prophet tomorrow. I told Bagman he should have sent someone to look for her ages ago.”

“Mr. Crouch has been saying it for weeks and weeks,” said Percy swiftly.

“Crouch is very lucky Rita hasn’t found out about Winky,” said Mr. Weasley irritably. “There’d be a week’s worth of headlines in his house-elf being caught holding the wand that conjured the Dark Mark.”

“I thought we were all agreed that that elf, while irresponsible, did not conjure the Mark?” said Percy hotly.

“If you ask me, Mr. Crouch is very lucky no one at the Daily Prophet knows how mean he is to elves!” said Hermione angrily. Fred’s head snapped up at the sound of her voice. He felt as surprised as everyone else seemed to that Hermione had now argued with Percy twice in one week.

“Now look here, Hermione!” said Percy. “A high-ranking Ministry official like Mr. Crouch deserves unswerving obedience from his servants —”

“His slave, you mean!” said Hermione, her voice rising passionately, “because he didn’t pay Winky, did he?”

Fred stared at her in open mouthed admiration. He felt a grin spreading over his face. He may not agree with her entirely on house-elves, but it was always a good time when someone took Percy down a peg.

“I think you’d all better go upstairs and check that you’ve packed properly!” said Mrs. Weasley, breaking up the argument. “Come on now, all of you. . . .”

Fred scooped the parchment up as he and George followed the others out. They would work on the letter some more on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow, Fred supposed. As he passed Ginny’s room though, he couldn’t resist going in with George to grin at Hermione.

“Nice one Hermione,” Fred said, giving her a thumbs up.

“Always nice to see someone taking perfect Percy down a peg.” George clapped slowly, grinning at her.

They were pleased to see Hermione lost for words, flushing pink. They ducked out of Ginny’s room laughing and continued down the hall to their room to check it one final time before Bill and Charlie went to bed. They could hear Ginny giggling at Hermione too. 

They looked around their room for a bit but quickly concluded that had already finished packing everything but the dark blue ruffled robes their mother had lain out on their beds.

“Uh Mum?” George called, lifting one of the sleeves of the garment.

Mrs. Weasley who appeared to be going room to room with freshly laundered robes came in and laid a stack on each of their beds. 

“Yes, dear.” She said a bit distractedly.

“Why have you gotten us matching dresses?” George continued an aghast expression on his face.

“Not this again.” She huffed, rolling her eyes. “Those are dress robes. It said on your lists that you needed them this year for formal occasions.”

“Er, are they supposed to look like something Aunt Muriel would wear?” Fred said with a grimace.

“I’ve already been over this with Ron! There wasn’t a lot of choice when I picked them out. If you don’t want to wear them, you can all go naked for all I care!” She half shouted, throwing her hands up.

George scratched his chin for a moment, considering. “Bold idea, but still better than wearing these.”

“Great idea Mum! Thanks!” Fred laughed.

Mrs. Weasley blanched, sputtering something about that not being what she’d meant. She left the room in a huff without another word, Fred and George howling with laughter as she went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing I wanted to talk about was the beginning of the chapter. I feel like we get a bit of a glimpse into the emotional and psychological toll Harry's life has on him in Order of the Phoenix, but we take it for granted that Ron and Hermione are dealing with a lot of the same emotional burdens. In Hermione's case, I feel like it's even more important to talk about because she deals with that constant discrimination and later persecution for years even though she is "the brightest witch of her age". I mean her boggart is literally a metaphor for not being good enough for the Wizarding World. I think having nightmares and being deeply stricken by what she goes through over the years is not only possible but probable. Is therapy or counseling a thing in the Wizarding World? It really should be. What about some creative elective music and art classes for all the kids at Hogwarts to just get out some of their teenage angst? Maybe Harry could have been happier fifth year if he had written angsty slam poetry like we all did as teenagers. Wait, that was just me? Ahem, anyway....mental health is important. That's why I did put a warning at the beginning of this chapter even if it isn't necessary. Take care of you. 
> 
> We will be finally getting to Hogwarts next chapter and I am pumped! I did mention we would be moving a little faster right? :D I really thought about writing some of the World Cup but realized that canonically Fred really doesn't get much of a chance to apologize. Besides, the only scene I would have wanted to include anyway would be Fred and George realizing that Bagman stiffed them and it's pretty unlikely that they would have done that until they got back to the Burrow. 
> 
> As always, you guys rock (especially if you are still reading my rambling notes). Every notification telling me that someone has enjoyed my scribbles causes me such joy. 
> 
> See you next week on the Hogwarts Express!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, JRK is the proud owner of all things Harry Potter. It's her world, I just play around in it.
> 
> This chapter contains direct text from GOF

Looking into Hermione’s angry eyes, Fred found himself regretting the decision to bring up the subject of house elves again the morning they were scheduled to go back to Hogwarts. He tried to mollify her.

“Hermione, look I agree with you about Crouch’s elf. He was pretty over the top with her and she’s well shot of him, but I’m telling you. They LIKE serving people. Love it, actually.”

Hermione folded her arms over her chest and said in a scandalized tone, “It’s slavery! Owning another being, forcing them to work. And that rubbish about them not even being able to hold a wand! It’s all so ridiculous.”

Fred shook his head in disbelief as he laughed.

“So what’s the plan then Hermione? Get them all on strike? Form a union? A wand for every elf? They don’t need wands, they have their own magic. Also, and I can’t stress it enough, THEY LIKE IT!”

“So because they’ve been brainwashed into thinking their sole purpose in life is to obey the beck and call of wizards, it’s okay? Think about how that sounds for just a moment. What if it were a human being, a muggle maybe? Would you say that it would be fair to make them wear a tea towel, serve our every whim, not get paid? No, it would be slavery!”

Hermione’s eyes flashed and pink spots began to form on her cheeks.

Fred decided to try a different tact.

“Look, Hermione, most house-elves don’t get treated badly. Most are like a member of the family. They care about their families and the families care about them too.”

“Oh yes, until they make one false move and get sacked after years of service? What about Dobby? I’m very sure that the Malfoys were perfectly lovely to him.” Hermione retorted drily.

Hermione had told Fred all about Harry’s experience with Dobby the house-elf and had been using it as the backbone of her argument. Personally, Dobby had seemed a bit off his rocker, so Fred didn’t consider him an excellent defense.

Fred ran his hand through his hair, lost for words. He understood where Hermione was coming from to an extent, but he also knew that House Elves weren’t like Goblins or Centaurs. They did love serving wizards. The Hogwarts elves always got incredibly offended at the idea of Fred and George serving themselves when they came down to the kitchens. Even a simple thank you would have most of them in tears of joy. He was about to tell Hermione this as his mother came bustling into the kitchen looking anxious, as she always did on the first day of term. She began speaking to Hermione hurriedly as though she didn’t seem to realize Fred was there.

“Ah good morning Hermione. I’m glad you’re awake. I need your help with something.” She said quickly, turning to the stove to start breakfast.

“Of course Mrs. Weasley, what is it?” Hermione replied looking a bit jolted.

“I need you to tell me how to work a fellytone. I’m going to need to go down to the village and order a few cars to take us to King’s Cross.” Mrs. Weasley had a harrowed expression on her face as though she had been dreading this moment for weeks.

“Um Mum, wouldn’t it be easier to borrow cars from the Ministry again like last year?” Fred asked, sounding a bit nervous about the idea too. He had no idea how to work a fellytone, in fact he wasn’t sure that was even the proper name for it, come to think of it.

“Oh! Good Morning dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, looking rather surprised, her eyes darting from Fred to Hermione and lingering on the two teacups in front of them. Fred felt the back of his neck burning for some reason, so he cleared his throat.

Mrs. Weasley continued, “I didn’t realize you were here as well.” She muttered under her breath something that sounded a lot like “must have been very preoccupied to miss that.”

She gave herself a little shake and said, “Anyway, your father tried, but there weren’t any to spare. So we’ll just take a taxi instead. Since you’re awake, can you go wake the others while Hermione tells me what to do?”

Eager to be away from his mother’s curious stare, Fred nodded and left the room quickly. He woke Ginny by pulling the blankets off of her, turning on her bedroom light, and running out of the room before she could begin to shriek. Laughing to himself and ignoring Mrs. Weasley’s shouts of “That’s NOT what I meant, Fred!” he climbed the stairs to Ron’s room.

With a grin, Fred grabbed one of the spare Beater’s bats next to Ron’s desk as well as a tin can holding spare quills. He turned on the light and started hitting the can loudly. “Rise and shine, boys. First day of term!”

Ron sprung up comically as though a bomb had gone off. George groaned and told Fred to do something to himself that he never would have repeated in front of their mother. Harry pulled the pillow over his head with a moan. Grinning, Fred left the room to head back downstairs.

He could hear Hermione walking Mrs. Weasley through the steps of how to use what was actually called a “telephone”. Ginny was downstairs now too and had a look of skeptical disbelief on her face as she listened.

“Now when the other person begins speaking, it’s very important to speak clearly, but you needn’t shout. Then, when you are done with the conversation, you put the receiver back where it was.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed in concern.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you, Mrs. Weasley?”

“Yes dear, I’m sure I will be able to manage. If Arthur can take apart and understand all that Muggle rubbish in the shed, I can certainly figure out how to use a fellytone.” Mrs. Weasley asserted impatiently.

“Telephone.” Hermione corrected gently exchanging a worried glance with Ginny.

“Mum, what about the Knight Bus? Wouldn’t that be simpler?” Ginny bit her lip as she spoke.

“Yes, a fine sight that would be at Kings Cross. No, I’ll order a taxi and be back before the boys are down for breakfast. How many should I send for? Two perhaps?” Mrs. Weasley asked, reaching for her raincoat. The weather seemed to be sharing the end of summer gloom. The sky was a murky purple, unlike the brilliant orange it usually was.

“Um, Mrs. Weasley. I would say at least three or four. Muggle cars are quite small, you see.” Hermione said kindly.

“Oh dear me, you would think they would be faster in that case.” Mrs. Weasley looked quite skeptical at the idea. “How do Muggles manage?”

She shook her head in amazement at the idea as she walked out the door.

******************

The rest of the morning passed in a whirl of people running back and forth up the stairs, grabbing various things that had been forgotten from bedrooms and around the house. Mr. Diggory had called in the fire for Mr. Weasley to come and sort something out with Mad-Eye Moody. In about five minutes he and Percy had bustled out the door in a frenzy, apologizing over and over that they couldn’t come to the station to see them off.

Fred privately thought to himself that it was a stroke of luck as Percy pompously reminded them that Mr. Couch was beginning to depend on him. He couldn’t disguise the bark of laughter when George rolled his eyes and said, “Yeah, you know what Percy? I reckon he’ll know your name soon.”

Harry and George remembered just in the nick of time to grab the broomsticks from the shed as the taxis pulled in, while Ginny raced into the living room shouting that she had forgotten to pack her Transfiguration book.

“For heaven’s sake. One year! One year, I would like everything to finally go smoothly on the first day of term.” Mrs. Weasley scowled as Ginny stuffed the book in her trunk.

Fred grabbed his and Hermione’s trunks and began pulling them toward the back door. “Come on Mum, where would be the fun in that?” he grinned at her.

One of the cab drivers had come to the door to help them with their bags.

“Oh dear, they don’t look very happy, do they?” he heard his mother say to Harry.

The cab driver shook Mrs. Weasley’s hand.

“Have to say, we thought you must be hard of hearing on the phone for all the shouting.” He gave a little laugh at his own joke before looking at all the luggage as well as Pig, Hedwig, and Crookshanks in their carriers. “I notice you forgot to mention all this luggage and the animals. You know, we’re supposed to charge extra for that.” The cab driver said a bit indignantly as Mrs. Weasley went scarlet, muttering that she didn’t think to mention it.

Fred’s eyes narrowed as he looked at his mother’s embarrassed face to the driver. An idea came to him and he acted before he could talk himself out of it. He undid the clasps on his trunk and left it on the walk while he helped load Ginny and Hermione’s trunks in the boot. He kept his ears peeled and was rewarded with a yelp of fright when the cab driver went to lift his trunk and Fred’s collection of Fillibuster’s Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks fell out and ignited in the yard. It was worth the financial hit and his mother’s shouts, he thought to himself to get back at the driver for being rude to Mrs. Weasley. Besides, he would just replace them when Mr. Bagman paid them.

He grinned at George as he slid into the seat beside Ginny.

“That WASN’T funny Fred!” Mrs. Weasley hissed from the front seat.

“You’re right Mum, it was hilarious!” George laughed and Ginny joined in. 

It was an uncomfortable ride to King’s Cross as Mrs. Weasley fumed at Fred and the three of them tried unsuccessfully to stop laughing. They were quite happy to unload their things and make their way into the station. They made their way quickly through the barrier and toward the train to find seats.

They climbed back down off the train to say their goodbyes to Mrs. Weasley, Bill and Charlie. However the entire conversation put him in a bit of a sour mood as they were all being incredibly evasive.

“You’ll see,” Charlie had said, rolling his eyes. “Just don’t tell Percy I mentioned it… ‘It’s classified information until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it’ after all.”

“I might even get time off to come watch a bit of it…” Bill had said a bit wistfully.

Fred and George had stomped off after getting back on the train. They made their way back to their compartment. Lee found them a few minutes later, pulling his own trunk in and pulling it onto a seat. They all clapped each other on the backs and spent a long time reminiscing about the World Cup. Fred thought idly that he should have asked Hermione if the dream was getting any better this morning, but then shook his head and tried to rejoin the conversation about the Bulgarian Veela.

After a while, Lee stood up and said in a would-be causal voice, “Well I’m going to go look in on some of the others. See how their summers were.”

“Tell Alicia we said hello.” Fred grinned as Lee’s face darkened in embarrassment.

“I’m going to look in on Katie and Angelina too.” He muttered.

“Just come back when you’re done grinning at her like an idiot.” George laughed as Lee scowled and marched out of the compartment, slamming the door. It sprung back and stayed ajar but neither Fred nor George cared to close it properly.

Fred waited a moment before pulling out the parchment and quill with their letter to Bagman. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to include Lee. They just thought that it might be best to handle the situation as quietly as possible. They didn’t want it to somehow get back to Bagman that they thought he cheated them until they got their gold back, real gold this time. Lee’s father dealt with Bagman on occasion and they didn’t want to risk Lee mentioning it to him.

They worked on the letter for the better part of the morning, arguing over the wording. When they finally finished, Fred looked at it critically.

"Dear Mr. Bagman,

We hope this letter finds you well. We are writing to you to let you know that there has been a mistake regarding our wager winnings. When we got home, we realized that you mistakenly gave us Leprechaun Gold and that the gold had Vanished. We understand that the World Cup, especially after, was incredibly stressful which is why we decided to wait to write to you.

If you can please send us our winnings via return owl, we would appreciate your timely response to this matter. Otherwise, we can be reached at Hogwarts School.

Warm Regards,

Fred and George Weasley"

For such a short letter, it had certainly taken a long time to write. As he had been last night, George was much more annoyed at the situation and it kept coming out in the letter. Fred was certainly upset too, but he realized that they had to play Bagman’s game until they got their money. He read and reread the letter until George finally scowled, “The letter is fine. Now seal it up before I just take it back and tell him to bugger off and give us our bloody money!”

Fred rolled his eyes but sealed the letter and put it back in his trunk. He stood and stretched his arms. “Reckon we should check on Lee? He’s been gone a long time.” He grinned, checking his watch.

George grinned back, “He has, hasn’t he? Things must be going well. We should help fix that.”

The two of them stood and made their way to the door when they heard the familiar voice of Draco Malfoy drawling as he, Crabbe, and Goyle walked past, “Yes, Father’s told me all about it. After all, he heard it directly from the Minister who was over for dinner just last night. It should be starting in October he said…”

Fred scowled at Malfoy’s retreating back as he and George headed the opposite direction. Just the sound of Malfoy’s drawling voice had reminded him of Malfoy’s role in Hermione’s nightmare. He gritted his teeth as he resisted the urge to throw a hex over his shoulder.

He and George made their way to the compartment where Alicia, Angelina, Katie, and Lee were chatting amicably about Quidditch. George took a seat opposite Angelina and joined in. Fred smirked as he thought about how George had taken the mickey out of Lee earlier and now was here staring at Angelina as if he had never seen the sun before.

The six of them spent the rest of the trip talking about their summers, the World Cup, and Quidditch. Alicia was incredibly jealous, her family couldn’t get tickets and hadn’t gone so she listened raptly to Lee’s play by plays. Angelina and George were talking about different plays for the upcoming season and the fact that no one had gotten the Quidditch captain badge yet. It was common knowledge that the captaincy was appointed when Prefects got their badges. Katie and Fred glanced at their friends and shared knowing looks as they too began to speculate on what it must mean that no one had gotten the badge. Katie had heard from a friend on the Ravenclaw team that the Ravenclaw Captain had yet to be announced too. As the clouds darkened, they knew they must be arriving soon. Fred, George, and Lee left to go back to their compartment to change.

  
As the train slowed to a stop, there was a loud rumble of thunder overhead. Fred heard Hagrid’s booming voice call out to Harry on the platform, “See yeh at the feast if we don’ drown!” Fred and George pulled their cloaks over their heads and made their way to the first carriage they could find, holding their hands out so that Alicia and Angelina could gratefully climb in after them. A moment later, the carriages pulled out of the station and toward the castle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know! I'm terrible! I said once a week updates and its been so long! Please forgive me. It's such a generic excuse but life has been so crazy lately. My sister and her boyfriend came for a visit, and then I immediately went home for a wedding. Then a good friend took a job out of the country and just moved so I spent pretty much any time I wasn't at work getting in all the hang out time I could with him. Those are all weak excuses but the biggest reason for my long absence is the fact that I hit a BAD writer's block. 
> 
> This chapter was so expository and sets up for a lot of future information as we all know, but WE MADE IT TO HOGWARTS!!!! WOOOOOO! I'm working on the next chapter now, but it's difficult to balance the actual text without having giant chunks taken right from Goblet of Fire. I should have more time to dedicate to writing in between all my friends using my house as a free hotel when they come visit Colorado, so I'm hoping to get the first week of classes written to be posted soon. I want to get a few chapters written in advance so I can post weekly like I have been. Especially before NaNoWiMo. I can't promise that I will post regularly in November because of NaNoWrMo, but I will try my hardest. 
> 
> In the meantime, I just have to say your continued comments and kudos are so amazing. Seeing people enjoy something I write is so encouraging!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter or any part of the Harry Potter universe. This is Jo's world, I just play in it.
> 
> This chapter contains direct quotation from GOF.

_“_As I was saying,” Professor Dumbledore said, “we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”

“You’re JOKING!” said Fred loudly. The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody’s arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

“I am not joking, Mr. Weasley,” he said, “though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar . . .” Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly. “Er — but maybe this is not the time . . . no . . .” said Dumbledore, “where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament . . .

Pity, Fred thought to himself grinning, as he thought he would have rather liked to have heard the end of that joke. 

Dumbledore began talking about the history of the Triwizard Tournament and Fred felt his attention ebbing as he began to daydream about the idea of himself slaying a vicious beast, the school cheering him on. He felt his focus come back as George shook his arm. He turned his attention back to Dumbledore in time to hear him say, “An impartial judge will decide which students are worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.”

Fred’s mouth suddenly went very dry and his stomach lurched violently. One THOUSAND Galleons? One THOUSAND GALLEONS! They could start the shop. They could get premises, make more stock. One thousand Galleons would make all the difference for the shop.

“I’m going for it!” Fred Weasley hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. George nodded his agreement.

Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more. “Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts,” he said, “the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age — that is to say, seventeen years or older — will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This” — Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, “is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion.” His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred’s and George’s mutinous faces.

“I’d like to see him come up with something to stop us entering,” George muttered.

Dumbledore continued to speak but Fred had once again stopped listening. There had to be a way around the rule. He and George were almost seventeen after all, and they were in the sixth year. It was so preposterously unfair. Fred racked his brain for any memories of potions, charms, amulets, anything a teacher could have mentioned over the last five years that could magically age a person.

He vaguely heard Dumbledore’s voice saying, “I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!” Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

“They can’t do that!” said George, who had not joined the crowd moving toward the door, but was standing up and glaring at Dumbledore. “We’re seventeen in April, why can’t we have a shot?”

“They’re not stopping me entering,” said Fred stubbornly, also scowling at the top table. “The champions’ll get to do all sorts of stuff you’d never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!”

“Yeah,” said Ron, a faraway look on his face. “Yeah, a thousand Galleons . . .” 

“Come on,” said Hermione, “we’ll be the only ones left here if you don’t move.” Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George set off for the entrance hall, Fred and George debating the ways in which Dumbledore might stop those who were under seventeen from entering the tournament.

“Who’s this impartial judge who’s going to decide who the champions are?” said Harry.

“Dunno,” said Fred, “but it’s them we’ll have to fool. I reckon a couple of drops of Aging Potion might do it, George. . . .”

“Dumbledore knows you’re not of age, though,” said Ron.

“Yeah, but he’s not the one who decides who the champion is, is he?” said Fred shrewdly.

“Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he’ll choose the best from each school and never mind how old they are. Dumbledore’s trying to stop us giving our names.”

“People have died, though!” said Hermione in a worried voice as they walked through a door concealed behind a tapestry and started up another, narrower staircase.

“Yeah,” said Fred airily, “but that was years ago, wasn’t it? Anyway, where’s the fun without a bit of risk? Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get ’round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?”

“What d’you reckon?” Ron asked Harry. “Be cool to enter, wouldn’t it? But I s’pose they might want someone older. . . . Dunno if we’ve learned enough. . . .”

“I definitely haven’t,” came Neville’s gloomy voice from behind Fred and George. “I expect my gran’d want me to try, though. She’s always going on about how I should be upholding the family honor. I’ll just have to — oops. . . .”

Neville’s foot had sunk right through a step halfway up the staircase. There were many of these trick stairs at Hogwarts; it was second nature to most of the older students to jump this particular step, but Neville’s memory was notoriously poor. Harry and Ron seized him under the armpits and pulled him out, while a suit of armor at the top of the stairs creaked and clanked, laughing wheezily. Out of respect to Neville, Fred tried not to laugh too hard.

“Shut it, you,” said Ron, banging down its visor as they passed.

Fred looked behind him to see that Hermione was trailing behind, with a worried expression still on her face. Fred slowed to walk next to her and threw his arm over her shoulders. He gave her a friendly shake and said,

“Come on Hermione, cheer up. They wouldn’t even be holding the tournament if it wasn’t safe.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows as she made a noise of disbelief.

“Seriously, do you think this judge is going to pick some prat like Ron, who doesn’t have any chance of winning? No, they’re going to pick whoever is the person who has the most skill to win. The age limit is just a formality, Dumbledore said himself that it should be students in 6th or 7th year. Which George and I are.”

Hermione didn’t say anything to that but still looked unconvinced as they made their way up to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, which was concealed behind a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink silk dress.

“Password?” she said as they approached.

“Balderdash,” said George, “a prefect downstairs told me.”

The portrait swung forward to reveal a hole in the wall through which they all climbed. A crackling fire warmed the circular common room, which was full of squashy armchairs and tables. Hermione cast the merrily dancing flames a dark look, and they distinctly heard her mutter “Slave labor,” before bidding them good night and disappearing through the doorway to the girls’ dormitory.

Rolling his eyes, Fred told Harry and Ron good night and followed George up to the dormitory. Lee was already there, asking Kenneth Towler about his summer. Kenneth was hanging his poster of the Irish National Quidditch Team while he listened eagerly to the others regaling him with tales of the Cup as they got ready for bed.

“Mum wouldn’t let Dad get tickets. Doesn’t care for crowds, and after what happened at the Cup, well, you can imagine. ‘See, I told you it would have been a bad idea. We would have been caught in all of that horrible rubbish.’” He commiserated in a shrill voice, pulling the hangings closed on his four-poster bed as he bid them good night. 

“I still think a few drops of aging potion would do it, d’you reckon? We only need to age a few months.” George yawned as he pulled the hangings of his four-poster bed closed.

“I suppose. The judge won’t know the difference.” Fred said as he climbed into bed, a series of dazzling new pictures forming in his mind’s eye. . . . He had hoodwinked the impartial judge into believing he was seventeen . . . he had become Hogwarts champion . . . he was standing on the grounds, his arms raised in triumph in front of the whole school, all of whom were applauding and screaming . . . he had just won the Triwizard Tournament. . . . He could see Harry and Ron’s jealous faces now, next to George who was beaming with pride and clapping him on the back. Hermione’s face stood out particularly clearly in the blurred crowd, her face glowing with admiration. . . . Fred grinned into his pillow, exceptionally glad that George couldn’t see what he could.

************

“Don’t be thick Lee. Where would we even get a Time-Turner?” Fred rolled his eyes over a sip of orange juice the next morning.

“Hey, just thinking out loud, mate. Dad told me his department gave one out to a student just last year. I guess someone really keen decided to take every single class and got special permission. Must have been a Ravenclaw. Mad, eh?” Lee laughed, shaking his head.

Fred was about to laugh when George nudged him and pointed subtly down the table to where Hermione had frozen like a statue with her knife hanging in midair, her eyes darting from her plate in front of her and back over to where the three of them were sitting. She flushed when she realized that Fred and George were watching her and began buttering her toast again, turning back to talk to Harry and Ron.

“You’re eating again, I notice,” came Ron’s voice, fully distracting Hermione as George leaned in to mutter in Fred’s ear,

“You don’t think…”

“I don’t know. She did take all those classes last year.” Fred said lowly back, as he took the stack of 6th-year schedules from Lee and searched for his own. The fourth years had already taken their schedules, so Fred couldn’t look at Hermione’s list of classes.

George’s voice suddenly took on an urgent, frenzied tone. “Blimey, what if she still has it? That might actually work! We only need to age a few months after all.” His face had taken on the dreamy expression Fred recognized from the night before. He must be imagining what it would be like to be named Hogwarts Champion.

Fred, for his part, actually felt the Triwizard Tournament leave his mind for the first time since he had heard about it. He imagined what it would be like to have a Time-Turner. A Time-Turner AND the map? He sighed with a wistful sort of regret. So many pranks that could have been successfully deployed, detentions avoided, they might even have been able to fit in a bit of time to study.

“Well lads, better be off. What’s on the schedule?” Lee grabbed his bag and stood up.

Fred and George grinned at each other.

“Back to the Common Room to rest after this hearty meal.” George grinned.

“We’ll see you for Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon,” Fred promised in a mock apologetic voice.

Lee snatched their schedules off the table and scowled down at them. “I don’t believe it. You both managed to only take one class per day?”

George brushed a crumb from his robes. “What can we say?”

“Five long years of academic underachievement have finally paid off,” Fred smirked.

“Mum was so upset when we only got three O.W.L.’s apiece. Wouldn’t she be pleased to know how much time we will have to make sure we are well rested for all our classes now?” George laughed as the three of them left the Great Hall.

Lee scowled darkly at them again, muttering to himself, which only served to fuel their laughter. He left them at the front doors to head out to Care of Magical Creatures. As they walked back up to Gryffindor Tower however, George lost his laughing manner. His brow furrowed as he looked over to Fred and said in a serious voice,

“So what do you reckon?”

Fred knew what he meant.

“Well, it hasn’t quite been a full 12 hours yet. He could still send an owl.” Fred replied, biting his lip.

“Yeah, and if we don’t hear anything back?” George asked darkly.

“We’ll just send another letter. We’ll be impossible to ignore. You still reckon we shouldn’t have asked Dad, Bill, or Charlie about it?” Fred asked unsurely, raking a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, and end up getting a Howler from Mum telling us off for betting our savings? Thanks, but I would rather not ever get any of the money back. Besides, we don’t want Bagman thinking we’re just a couple of kids who need Dad to sort out our business.” George said resolutely.

“Very true." Fred shook his head and then smiled, clapping his hands together.

"Well, in the meantime, we should get started on replenishing our stock of Trick Wands. Now that we are back at school, I want to start working on the Sickness Sweets line, I think we’re almost there on the Nosebleed Nougat and we are out from under Mum’s roof, after all,” he said.

George laughed as they reached the portrait hole and climbed in, “How right you are, Gred. She would be thrilled to find how well we can follow her directions exactly.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I ended up having to break this chapter up because it was getting waaaaaaay too long. I'm really excited for the later half of the day, which will be from Hermione's perspective, so I didn't want to shave anything off for length. 
> 
> We're going to be getting some good Fred/Hermione moments and into some of the action of GOF in the next few chapters! I love finally getting back to Hogwarts every time I reread Harry Potter. Getting back to Hogwarts really is like coming home. 
> 
> I don't have a novel sized note for you guys this week (did you all die of shock?), but I do hope you enjoy this chapter. As always, your comments and kind words make my day. Thank you all so much, until next time! :D


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this is Jo's playground, I just come to hang out in it and this chapter contains direct quotation from GOF

“Miss Granger, what do you think?”

Professor Vector’s voice sounded from far away.

“I’m sorry Professor,” Hermione said, flushing. “Could you repeat the question?”

Professor Vector looked deeply shocked as she repeated her original question. Hermione felt her cheeks burn hotter as she gave a quick answer. She had never been caught having not paid attention in class before. Professor Vector gave her a curious look before moving on with her lecture.

Hermione had not stopped thinking about house-elves since the night before. She felt the way she always did when she was given a puzzle or problem and knew she was right on the verge of solving it. Like her brain was just bursting to give her the answer. Hermione was dying to get back to the library, a place that had helped her time and time again every time she was faced with a problem to solve.

This time, however, was proving to be frustratingly difficult. House-Elf enslavement had been around it seemed, as far back as wizards appeared to keep records. It was incredibly difficult however, to find actual information on the practice. Hermione supposed this was because it was so commonplace that wizards didn’t bother to record anything about it. Wizards didn’t seem to keep clear records on their house-elves either, in recent history or further back. As if they were beneath notice, Hermione scowled to herself. 

Annoyed, Hermione put her chin on her hand and looked toward the window. It was a lovely view, facing the lake and the Forbidden Forest. She could see a few of the leaves on the trees fluttering in the breeze and a ripple in the lake as one of the arms of the giant squid poked out, as if hoping to feel some last summer warmth.

This had been the first summer holiday she had been almost sorry to see end. The past two weeks had been so relaxing and carefree, going to the World Cup, spending time with Harry and Ron outside of school, getting closer to Ginny, conversations with Fred.

Through her hand, Hermione felt a smile cross her face when she thought about her conversations with Fred. She never would have imagined she would be able to call Fred Weasley her friend, but he had certainly become that over the last few weeks. She had come to know that Fred was more sensitive and thoughtful than George, and therefore the pranks he pulled were more personal and planned out. George on the other hand was more chaotic and impulsive. There was more likely to be collateral damage when he was the one designing a prank.

They complimented each other well though, and Fred talked about George like he was an extension of himself, Hermione thought warmly. 

She also now knew that merciless as they were to Ron, Fred, and George were in fact very protective of him, Harry and Ginny. They thought of Harry as another brother, which is why they had tricked Harry's cousin into eating the Ton-Tounge Toffees and why they had helped Ron break Harry out of Privet Drive their second year. 

Hermione now knew how Fred took his tea and coffee, that he didn’t eat much for breakfast, the way his eyebrows creased, and framed his golden-brown eyes when he was trying to emphasize a point. She remembered that look very well from that last morning conversation the previous day.

‘So what’s the plan then Hermione? Get them all on strike? Form a union? A wand for every elf? They don’t need wands, they have their own magic. Also, and I can’t stress it enough, THEY LIKE IT!’

Hermione glared at the memory, thinking darkly, ‘They need a union.’

Hermione blinked a few times blankly as her mind raced. That was it! House Elves did need a union or at least someone who would advocate for them since they would never do so themselves. Sitting bolt upright, Ernie McMillan started next to her in alarm at her sudden movement. Whispering a quick “sorry” to him, Hermione started scribbling on her parchment right under the Arithmancy notes she had been taking moments before.

****************

“Don’t tell me you’re going back to the library this evening?” said Harry, watching her.

“Got to,” said Hermione thickly. “Loads to do.”

“But you told us Professor Vector —”

“It’s not schoolwork,” she said. Within five minutes, she had cleared her plate and got up hastily to head out to the library. Her mind focused entirely on which books she would need, she didn’t realize she had walked into Fred until she collided right into him.

“Sorry Fred. I’m headed to the library. I wasn’t paying attention.” Hermione smiled at him before greeting George and Lee who were on either side.

“Isn’t it a bit early to try to read the entire library? You realize you have another three years here don’t you?” George grinned at her.

Hermione shook her head, rolling her eyes as she stepped past them, making her way out of the Great Hall.

When she got to the library, Hermione pulled out several large tomes and spread her notes out. She pored through the large books, reading, making a note here or there, and then flipping to different pages. After a few hours, she pulled out the new leather-bound journal her mother had given her as an early birthday present.

She printed in careful, neat handwriting,

“The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare”,

Here forth to be abbreviated as S.P.E.W. 

Meeting One Minutes

On this day, our society has been formed.

Membership shall be hereby granted to individuals seeking the equal treatment and end of the abuse of our fellow magical creatures and to those persons who wish to campaign for a change in their legal status.

Membership Fees: Two Sickles

Membership includes S.P.E.W membership badge

Our short-term aims are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions.

Our long term aims include changing the laws regarding non-wand use and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. 

By de facto election, the following officers have been established.

President and Vice-President: Hermione Granger

Treasurer: Ron Weasley

Secretary: Harry Potter (Hermione Granger substituting this meeting due to Mr. Potter’s absence.)

Beaming to herself, Hermione knew, this was right. This felt right. She wasn’t just passively consenting to the inhumane injustices around them. She was doing something about it.

Standing, Hermione stretched her arms over her head and gathered some of the books to put away. Feeling quite pleased, she put the books away and headed back to her table. She was rather surprised however to find two people already sitting there.

“Fred? George? What are you two doing here.” Hermione asked a bit warily.

“Yeah, we’ll get to that. But, first, what’s spew?” George asked wrinkling his nose at the paper.

“It’s not spew,” Hermione said in a heated voice. “It’s ‘The Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare. It’s an organization I just founded dedicated to bettering the livelihoods and everyday lives of House Elves and other magical creatures.”

George bit his lip to try to keep from laughing out loud, while Fred put his hand over his face, his shoulders shaking in laughter.

“What is so funny?” Hermione glared.

“Hermione,” George said grinning, “What is so hard to understand? They. Like. It. You’re going to be insulting them, telling them they need sick leave and pensions. You’ll put them off their cooking, you will.” He laughed at her, shaking his finger in disapproval.

Fred succeeded only slightly more in composing himself. He elbowed George in the side. Trying to arrange his face into a serious one, he said, “He’s right. They’re not going to like you going and suggesting that they need to put down their mops and head out to the picket line. They just aren’t going to do it.”

Rolling his eyes, he said, “Yeah, yeah. They’ve been brainwashed into serving wizards.”

At the same time, Hermione had snapped, “Only because they’ve been brainwashed into serving wizards.” She looked a bit deflated as Fred finished her sentence.

She glared at them as she snapped the journal closed and began stuffing papers back in her bag. 

“Since the two of you are obviously not here to join, what do you want?” Hermione huffed. 

“Well you see, we had a rather, er, time-sensitive question to ask you,” Fred said smirking at Hermione while George grinned appreciatively.

Hermione, annoyed with the pair of them, scowled and continued gathering her things without speaking. 

“Hermione, it was a joke. We’re really sorry for laughing at spew.” George put his hands up in surrender.

With a huff, Hermione looked up at them and said, “I know what you want to ask me and I can’t help you. I don’t even have it anymore. I suppose Lee Jordan’s dad didn’t tell him that part?”

George’s face fell as Fred asked in a slightly awed voice, “But you had one at one point.”

Hermione bit her lip before speaking. Sure, Professor McGonagall had forbidden her from talking about the Time-Turner when she had it, but she had never said anything about not mentioning it after the fact. Hermione settled for simply nodding.

Fred looked rather impressed. George on the other hand looked disappointed.

“Well, back to the drawing board, I suppose.” George said morosely.

“I suppose it is.” Fred said back, looking a bit disappointed himself.

  
“If it is any consolation, I probably wouldn’t have let you use it to enter the tournament anyway.” Hermione shrugged.

Fred raised an eyebrow.

“Probably?” George asked.

“You should have offered to join S.P.E.W,” Hermione said lightly.

Both Fred and Goerge laughed appreciatively as George rose from the table.

“Well, time is Galleons. We really must be off. Thanks anyway Hermione.” He looked questioningly at Fred who had remained seated.

“I’ll be along in a minute. I’m just going to help Hermione clear up.” Fred said, not looking back at him.

George paused for a moment. “Okay then, Lee and I will wait for you.” He said simply before nodding to Hermione and leaving.

“Well thank you Fred, but I really can manage,” Hermione told Fred as soon as George had gone.

“I know, but how else are we supposed to have our daily chats?” Fred grinned at her, picking up the last few books on the table. 

Hermione smiled back and gathered the rest of the papers. She followed him to put the books away.

“So, what was it like?” Fred asked in a hushed tone as he put the books on the proper shelves.

  
“What was what like?” Hermione asked back, raising an eyebrow.

“The Time-Turner. What was it like to go back in time?” Fred tried to act nonchalant about it but his eyes were wide with an ill-contained excitement as they left the library and started down the corridor. 

“Oh, that. It drove me completely mad. By the end of the year I could hardly keep straight what had happened, what was about to happen, what was going to happen soon. And then there was that whole thing with Bu-“ Hermione stopped dead in her sentence, realizing what she had been about to say. It was too easy to talk to Fred, she forgot sometimes that there were things she couldn’t tell him. Like where Buckbeak actually was and who was with him.

To cover up, she laughed nervously and said in a bright voice. “It drove me so mad I actually slapped Malfoy in the face, you know.” She felt sure that Fred wasn’t fooled however. For his part, he smiled and laughed at the story as she told it, but she caught him looking at her curiously as they walked. 

“Tell me you at least used it once for something other than schoolwork.” He rolled his eyes at her, changing the subject, whether on purpose or not.

With a sigh of relief, Hermione tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she pretended to think.

“Well there was the time I slept through the Quidditch Final. So I used it to watch the Final. Of course it was rather boring already knowing who was going to win.”

“Boring?” Fred exclaimed, looking appalled. “Boring? That was the best match of the season! How could you sleep through it!”

“If it’s any consolation, I think I enjoyed the match more knowing we were going to win,” Hermione said.

“Just think about the possibilities. You could have taken bets and made so much money.” Fred said with a slightly sour look.

“That would have been unethical!” Hermione said, sounding scandalized.

“But very lucrative.” Fred grinned. 

“Oh no, I couldn’t! Professor McGonagall had to write all sorts of letters saying how responsible I was and how I would never misuse it. I couldn’t just betray her trust.” Hermione said earnestly.

“I know Hermione, it was just a joke,” Fred said, rolling his eyes again as they approached the Fat Lady. Fred gave the password and as they climbed in the portrait hole, Hermione realized for the first time how late it must be. They were the only ones in the Common Room.

“Well this is where I leave you. George and Lee will be waiting, I expect?” Hermione turned toward the girl’s staircase.

“Ah yes. Er, Hermione?” Fred called, causing her to turn around.

“Yes?” she asked.

“You know, um, that is, I hope you know. Um, if you ever need to, ah, well.” To Hermione’s surprise, Fred had gone rather red and he looked a bit sheepish.

Hermione raised an amused eyebrow.

Fred cleared his throat and tried again. “You’ve been a good friend and you’ve proven that we can trust you. I hope you know you can trust us, um me. If you ever needed to.”

Hermione felt a warmth spreading over her at Fred’s words. She knew he was talking about earlier when she had almost let slip about Buckbeak and Sirius, but she also knew he wouldn’t pry or pressure her to tell him about it.

She smiled at him warmly and said as she turned to go up the stairs, “I’ll keep that in mind.” As she made her way up the stairs and got ready for bed, she replayed the conversation over and over in her head, grinning widely.

As she felt the edges of her mind giving way to sleep, Fred’s words repeated in her head,

‘I hope you know you can trust us, um me. If you ever needed to.’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween and Dia de los Muertos! Hopefully everyone had an excellent holiday. I'm keeping the spooky season going tomorrow by going to see a Rocky Horror Picture Show shadow-cast tomorrow. My whole group will be virgins, and we are pretty stoked to go even if we don't know what to expect. 
> 
> I'm so very excited about this chapter and getting to talk about S.P.E.W. We will probably be jumping ahead a few weeks like JKR does in Harry Potter after the first day, but I can promise some great Fredmione slow burn in the next few chapters. :D 
> 
> I mentioned a few weeks ago that I am participating in NaNoWriMo this year with an original WIP. It's pretty out of my comfort zone, and while I hope this story doesn't suffer, I can't make any promises. Thank you so much to anyone who has reviewed or liked this story. As always, your kind words rock my socks off and are in part why I feel ready to tackle a completely original work! <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the Harry Potter Universe. This is Jo's playground, I just come to hang out in it.

Fred inhaled the potion before him. The mother-of-pearl sheen swirling on the surface looked mouth-watering. It wasn’t the most interesting potion he had ever seen but still, Fred couldn’t take his eyes off it. He tried to concentrate on the smell, which was easily one of the most intoxicating and seductive scents he had ever inhaled. It reminded him of the way it smelled outdoors after a fresh rain, the burned gunpowder of a recently fired firework, and a sweet, spiced scent he was sure he had smelled recently all at once. He drank the scent in hungrily, as he looked over lazily toward Lee, he could see that Lee had a similar expression on his face.

There were two other cauldrons full of potion that Fred didn’t recognize. One full of a clear liquid that looked like it could be full of water, the other a slowly bubbling concoction that smelled foul and looked like mud.

“Move along now, move along.” Snape scowled, ushering Fred and Lee forward so the rest of the class could inspect the potions. He looked down at the cauldron with an odd expression before rounding on the class again. He seemed to be in an even fouler mood than usual today.

“If five years of magical education have not been entirely wasted, you should recognize at least one of the potions in these cauldrons,” Snape said coldly when everyone had inspected the potions and taken their seats again.

Montague raised his hand, pointing at the clear potion. He said in a pretentious voice, “That’s Veritaserum. It forces the drinker to tell the truth.”

“Correct. Five points to Slytherin. Veritaserum is a potion that is odorless and colorless, making it difficult to detect.” Snape said, giving Montague an indulgent smile.

Pointing to the murky potion bubbling in the middle cauldron, “Which of you can tell me what this potion is?”

Alicia raised her hand. “It’s Polyjuice Potion sir. It can transform the drinker into the likeness of another person after a piece of that person has been added to the potion.”

Fred made a face at the thought. A piece of the person, he mused, imagining dropping a few fingernail clippings in the bubbling cauldron.

Snape scowled as though irritated that Alicia had been correct.

“Polyjuice Potion is very likely the most difficult potion on this table to brew. One misstep can leave the drinker permanently altered or worse.” Snape’s lip curled, relishing the idea. He moved to the third cauldron and looked at them expectantly.

Angelina raised her hand and spoke, “It’s Amortentia, the most powerful love potion known to man, characterized by its mother of pearl sheen and steam rising in spirals. Like all love potions, Amortentia doesn’t create real love, but a powerful infatuation. It smells different to everyone, depending on what attracts them. For example, I can smell broomstick polish, spices and-.”

Angelina suddenly broke off as the rest of the class tittered and giggled. She flushed and sank in her seat.

“What was that, Johnson? I don’t think we caught that back here.” Fred called out loudly, grinning at Lee while the rest of the class roared with laughter. Angelina glared at Fred, her cheeks flushing even darker.

Snape silenced them all with a deadly glare. “Silence. Ten points from Gryffindor for interrupting my class, Weasley.” He spat.

The Gryffindors smiles dropped from their faces faster than if Snape had thrown the cauldron of Polyjuice Potion at them.

His voice dripping with venom, he continued, “Interesting as your personal life undoubtedly is Miss Johnson, your answer was an almost verbatim recitation from Advanced Potion Making. Powerful infatuation can prove to be far more dangerous than love. Love potions of any kind are banned on Hogwarts school grounds, as is the brewing of any of these mixtures. Not that it stops at least one student per year from being caught with them. I can assure you that when I have caught students with them, I strive to personally ensure that they are expelled.”

His eyes seemed to linger on Fred’s table as he spoke. Fred did his best to match Snape’s glare with one of his own. He certainly had reason enough to despise Snape more than usual this year. Snape had never been what anyone could call nice to Fred or George over the years, but they had more or less been treated like any other student.

Ever since their first lesson the previous Tuesday however, Snape had been downright vile to him. He had seemed incredulous when Fred walked into the dungeons for N.E.W.T level Potions and outright scandalized when Fred showed him that he had indeed gotten an ‘O’ in his Potions O.W.L. Snape had even sent for Professor McGonagall to confirm Fred’s marks. He had spent the remainder of the lesson with an expression as though he had a lemon in his mouth and taking points from Gryffindor for offenses like “breathing loudly” or “looking too happy”. Fred had no doubt Snape would love a reason to try to expel him or George, he just didn’t know why.

Fred exchanged a look with Lee, who rolled his eyes at Snape. Fred smirked back, attempting to turn his attention back to Snape.

“These are just a few examples of potions one might be able to brew if any of you manage to complete the N.E.W.T. that is,” Snape said with an expression that said he did not think it very likely.

Certainly, Fred thought to himself, he would have preferred not to take Potions at all, even if he was surprisingly brilliant at them. He had been utterly dumbfounded when their O.W.L. results had come in. Mum for her part had been furious. She said it had been proof that he was, in fact, capable of applying himself in all his lessons and simply chose not to. He had sworn to her at the time that it didn’t matter because he was chucking Potions anyway.

It had proven necessary, however, for the shop. So much of their work relied on correct potion-making, so he and George had agreed that Fred should take Potions for the sake of the business. Meanwhile, George would concentrate on Transfiguration. As reasonable as it had sounded at the time over the summer, sitting there in the dungeon with Snape glaring at him, Fred still felt George had gotten the better deal.

They spent the rest of the lesson taking long and complicated notes on the three potions and Golpalott’s Third Law. Snape had told them all that they would be spending a fair bit of the term breaking down potions by their components and into their antidotes. They took this rather seriously as Snape had also suggested that their final exam of the term might include him poisoning one of them to test their knowledge.

As the bell signaling the end of classes for the day finally rang, Snape smiled evilly.

“I want two rolls of parchment, dictating the proper brewing of one of the potions we have discussed in class and breaking down an antidote of that potion using Golpalott’s Third Law. To be handed in at the start of the next class.”

“He’s evil, he is,” Fred said with a scowl as they left the dungeons. “Wish Dumbledore would just give him the Defense Against the Dark Arts job already, so we could be rid of him in a year.”

“Yeah, do us all a favor that would. Two rolls of parchment! On top of all these star charts and taking care of those foul things of Hagrid’s. What a first week.” Lee shook his head incredulously.

Fred and Lee spent the rest of the walk to Gryffindor Tower coming up with increasingly rude names for Snape. They met up with George to drop their bags off and made their way to the Great Hall for dinner.

“How’s the aging potion coming along?” Lee asked George as they walked.

“Just added the lacewings. It’ll need to be looked in on after dinner though.” George said.

“I can do it,” Fred said. “If we do everything right, the potion should be ready in time.”

“It had better be. We don’t have time for it not to be.” Lee said, chewing the inside of his lip.

They entered the Great Hall and found seats across from Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who was once again eating at top speed.

As they sat down, George grinned at them. “What did we tell you? Moody, eh?” he said, expectantly.  
To Fred’s surprise, Ron looked a bit embarrassed. “Yeah, really knows his stuff,” he muttered taking a bite of cottage pie.

Harry had a stony expression on his face. Hermione, on the other hand, looked a bit angry.

Taking the last sip of her pumpkin juice as she stood from the table she said, “Well I have to say, I wasn’t impressed with his methods.” She spun on her heel and walked off without another word.

“What’s with Hermione?” Fred asked raising an eyebrow.

“Off to the library again,” Harry said. Ron rolled his eyes.

“D’you know, I reckon you’re right? She’s trying to read the whole library before Christmas.” Ron said in a slightly louder voice than usual to change the subject. The five of them spent the rest of dinner talking about the Triwizard Tournament and the first weekend of term. The first Hogsmeade trip of the year had yet to be announced but there was a rumor that it was going to be sometime in November.

Outside the Great Hall, Lee bid Fred and George goodbye to head to the library. They continued toward Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom on the second floor. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had actually given them the idea to brew a potion there undisturbed. It was really a magnificent hiding place in its simplicity. Private too, if you could ignore Moaning Myrtle’s wails from the next stall over. Fred couldn’t believe they had never thought to work there before. He and George had even been discussing the possibility of brewing potions for Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes in the bathroom. As they walked, George spoke in a low voice.

“We’ve given that dirty cheat four days to reply to our letter and still nothing.” George scowled.

“You reckon we should try again? We said we would after all if he didn’t respond.” Fred said, frowning.

“Yeah, I do, and this time you let me do the talking. The nice guy approach isn’t doing it.” George said, with a grim look.

Fred sighed. “I still say we need to be careful until we have at least the money we gave him back.”

George rolled his eyes. “Fred, what makes you think he even intends to give it back? I mean, why else would be ignoring our letter.”

“He has to know that it’s going to get out that he welches on his bets,” Fred said, frustrated.

"Maybe we should remind him of that fact,” George said grimly.

Fred ran his hand through his hair, letting out a breath. “You mean a threat?”

“I mean reminding him that it would be in his best interest to settle upon our wager,” George said.

They had reached the door of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

“We can talk about it more when you get back to the Common Room,” George said, eyeing the door apprehensively.

He waved in goodbye and Fred entered the bathroom.

Fred could smell the potion brewing in the back corner stall. He ducked in the stall to check the potion. The lacewings were steeping into the rest of the potion, turning it a dark maroon color.

Fred frowned, stirring it to distribute the color. He pulled out Advanced Potion Making, flipping to the dog-eared page for the Aging Potion. According to the book, the potion should be turning a dark crimson, but not this quickly. He guessed that George had added the entire bag of lacewings instead of weighing them out like Fred had told him to.

With an irritated sigh, he stood and brushed off his robes. He needed to find Lee so they could figure out whether the potion was completely ruined or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NaNoWriMo is over and I am back! Unfortunately I was not a NaNoWriMo winner this year but I'm trying not to beat myself up too badly for missing the word count mark. I still consider the month a win because I have an original WIP that I'm still very excited about and plan to continue to work on. Besides, creativity happens all year, not just during November. :) 
> 
> As for this chapter, I know that having Fred get an O on his O.W.L. in Potions and then deciding to take potions might seem far fetched, but hear me out. So canonically, we know that Fred and George took Defense Against the Dark Arts because they talked about Moody's class on the first day back and that they both took Charms because they mention that Umbridge inspected one of their lessons in Order of the Phoenix. We also know that George got an O.W.L in Transfiguration because Professor McGonagall tells him to 'shut up and get on with Transfiguring his raccoon'. 
> 
> BUT!!!!! Fred still has one O.W.L unaccounted for. I say that it's plausible he could have gotten an O in Potions because it takes a lot of skill and know-how to create all the confections and potions for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and I really didn't think any of the other subject options seemed very likely. So Fred is taking Potions this year whether he wants to or not. 
> 
> As for Snape in this scene, did you guys catch the moment when he smelled the Amortentia? Another reason I wanted to have Fred take Potions was so that he could be a real thorn in Snape's side. I think Snape would be super salty about it because he would see Fred and George as a parallel to James and Sirius: trouble-makers brilliant at just about everything with seemingly no effort.
> 
> The next few chapters are going to finally carry us into the Triwizard Tournament! Originally I had hoped to be at the Yule Ball around Christmas this year but obviously that won't be happening. My chapters keep getting longer and longer and I keep having to break them up into smaller segments. Either way, it should be a pretty wild ride over the next few chapters. 
> 
> As always, your comments and support mean the world to me! Until next time!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the Harry Potter Universe. This is Jo's world. I come to hang out in it.
> 
> This chapter contains direct text from GOF

Hermione beamed at the purple badge in her hand, exhilarated. It had taken a few tries but she had done it. The previously silver badge now shined a royal purple with the letters S.P.E.W. emblazoned across the middle. She knew that they hadn’t learned this kind of Transfiguration in class yet, and she felt the same way she always did when she managed to master a spell she hadn’t been taught by a professor. Proud relief, like she had proven she was meant to be a part of this world.

An amused voice came from over her shoulder, “Bit of an odd fashion choice.”

Hermione whipped around to see Fred standing over her shoulder, looking at the badge in her hand with an amused smile on his face.

Hermione felt her stomach flip flop. “I think I’ve seen you in the library more this week than in the last 4 years.” She said, smiling back at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m not here by choice, believe me,” Fred said, sitting in a chair next to her. “I was looking for Lee but he’s already gone. You?”

Hermione smiled a bit wider. “I’ve been working on S.P.E.W. I think we’re finally ready to go public and start recruiting members,” she said excitedly.

Hermione’s brain began to buzz with ideas and excitement for how to recruit more members.

Fred smirked at her and leaned toward her, one elbow on the table. “You’re still on about this spew stuff?”

Hermione glared at him. “Of course I am, and it’s not spew, it’s S.P.E.W. I take it you still aren’t here to join.”

“Afraid not.” He sat back and watched her, the amused smile still playing on his lips.

Irritated, Hermione turned her attention back to the badges. Pointing her wand at one of the badges, she muttered the spell again. The badge turned a green color this time.

Fred's mouth fell open and he gaped at Hermione. She could feel his eyes on her and began to feel rather self-conscious. Doing her best to ignore him, she picked up another badge and turned it pink. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Fred was still staring. She had her wand pointed at a fourth badge before she gave up and asked him.

“What?” Hermione asked, putting the badge down and turning to face him.

“That’s a N.E.W.T. level spell, Hermione. I haven’t even learned about that spell. How do you know how to do that?” Fred’s voice wasn’t teasing anymore, in fact, he sounded rather impressed.

“Oh,” Hermione said, going a bit pink. “Well, I just followed the book, I didn’t really think about it, um anyone can read a book after all.”

Fred shook his head in disbelief. “Anyone can’t just teach themselves advanced Transfiguration.” He let out a short laugh. “You’re a wonder, you know that?”

Hermione’s cheeks burned scarlet at the compliment. She beamed at Fred and said, “Thank you. Do you mean that?”

Hermione could see the back of Fred's neck turning red. He rubbed the back of it, smiling back at her and said, “Well yeah.”

Hermione felt her heart pounding. She looked down at the table, still smiling.

Fred's voice made her glance up again. “So, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, unless it’s to make fun of S.P.E.W again,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. She picked up another badge to distract herself.

“Next time there’s a Hogsmeade weekend, would you like to come with me?” Fred asked.

Hermione looked at him in surprise. Fred and George had never asked her or Ron or Harry to go with them to Hogsmeade. They usually went with Lee. They might wave to each other in passing but they never actually all went together. She wondered why they were asking now. Unless, she thought, her stomach lurching rather suddenly. Surely he wasn’t asking her to go with him, just the two of them. Was he? Why would he?

Fred continued, interrupting her thoughts. “We’ve been planning to go check out Zonko’s, scope out the competition, you know? Couldn’t do it without our research specialist.” He finished, winking at her.

Of course, she realized, a sinking feeling of disappointment settling in the pit of her stomach. They wanted her advice for the shop. It made sense. At least the fact that they still seemed to value her opinion was rather flattering.

“Oh, of course.” She said, hoping she was imagining the disappointment in her voice. “I’ve never been to Hogsmeade with you or George before, but I imagine it will be an interesting experience.” She gave him a bright smile.

Did she imagine it, or did Fred look a little disappointed too? They held each other’s gaze for a moment. Fred looked like he wanted to say something more. Oh no, Hermione thought with a pang of dread. He knew that she had read more into the invitation than she should have and now he felt bad for her.

She scrambled for something to say. Hermione said quickly, “So why were you looking for Lee?”

It worked, Fred looked a bit disoriented as he replied, “Oh, I needed his help with a potion problem.”

“Oh,” Hermione sat up a bit straighter. “Is it for the shop?”

Fred laughed. “Uh, not exactly, but it will help the shop a lot if we can get it right.”

Hermione frowned for a moment as she thought. Then her eyebrows shot up in realization.

“It’s about the Tournament, isn’t it? Some idea to get around the age limit?” She said torn between curiosity and disapproval.

“Bingo.” Said Fred.

“It’s not something dangerous, is it? Or illegal?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That depends on how you feel about Aging Potions.” Fred flashed her another smile.

“Dumbledore will have thought of that, you know.” Hermione sighed, shaking her head.

Fred brushed her comment aside unconcerned, “Dumbledore cares about the best person being made champion.”

Hermione made an unconvinced sort of tut and folded her arms but pressed on. “So what does this have to do with Lee’s help?”

“Well, George isn’t exactly what you would call a dab hand at Potions.” Fred shook his head in frustration. “He added an entire bag of lacewings instead of measuring them out like I told him to. Now they’re steeping into the potion too quickly. I need Lee to help me figure out if we can fix it or if we need to just chuck it in the bin.”

“If we have to just chuck it, “Fred said, a bit of desperation in his voice, “That’s it. We won’t have time to make more. And we won’t be able to even try.”

“And you won’t be able to compete for the money to start the shop,” Hermione said quietly after a moment.

He nodded. Fred looked at the ground, an uncharacteristically serious look on his face. “Starting this shop- I mean, I know we probably won’t be picked. But we have to try right?”

Hermione bit her lip, thinking for a moment. “Try a mandrake leaf. That should absorb the excess lacewing,” she said.

Fred looked up, relief showing on his face. “Mandrake leaves! That’s perfect. Thanks, Hermione.”

“Don’t mention it.” Hermione felt her cheeks going pink again.

“I guess I should be going. Blimey, that just might save it.” Fred got to his feet. He looked back down at her. “Why are you helping us? We are breaking the rules of the tournament, you know.”

“You deserve the chance to try,” Hermione said, looking into Fred’s eyes.

He hesitated for a moment, then smiled at her before turning and leaving the library. Hermione found it very difficult to go back to transfiguring the rest of the buttons after that. She worried that she had acted against her better judgment and whether she had made the right decision. Picking up another button, she thought to herself that if she hadn’t told them how to fix the potion, they would have figured out another way to try to enter. They did deserve to try, she thought to herself, remembering the determined look on Fred’s face. She looked at the large stack of buttons on the table and sighed. Even if she had gotten the hang of the spell, it was still going to be a long night if she didn’t get started on them.

***************

Leaving Myrtle’s bathroom after putting a Mandrake leaf in the cauldron, Fred couldn’t put off thinking about it any longer. He recalled his meeting with Hermione in the library. He couldn’t believe he had asked her to go with him to Hogsmeade. What had he been thinking? And then, to make matters worse, she thought he had meant with both him and George.

And why wouldn’t she? He groaned to himself, rolling his eyes. After all, he had lost his nerve and tacked on the bit about the shop. It was true that they had planned a trip to Zonko’s to investigate the competition. It was also true that Hermione’s input would probably be a good thing, but when Fred had imagined Hermione coming with him to Hogsmeade, he had imagined a different scene. He pictured himself and Hermione hand in hand, walking down the streets of Hogsmeade, laughing over a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, exploring shops by themselves, leaning in to kiss her goodbye when they got back to the castle, close enough to inhale that sweet but spiced scent of her hair.

That was what had done it in the library. He shook his head, frustrated with himself. When he had greeted her, Hermione had spun around and hit him with a wave of the same scent he had smelled in the Amortentia that afternoon. Then watching her, performing magic that students in his year didn’t even know. He’d lost his head completely, hadn’t even realized what he was saying until he heard the words coming out of his mouth.

She had seemed enthusiastic at least, even if it was an outing with both him and George she had been enthusiastic about, he sighed as he reached the Fat Lady.

“Balderdash," he said. She swung open and he entered the common room. He saw Harry and Ron sitting by the fire, scrolls of parchment strewn on top of a table. George waved him over from a pair of armchairs, set away from everyone else. As he took a seat, George said in an impatient tone, “You took long enough.”

“I had to fix your mistake,” Fred said, rolling his eyes.

“I told you to measure the lacewings. Don’t just chuck them all in.”

“Well, it isn't ruined right?" George asked dryly.

"At any rate, I started working on the second letter, but it’s not coming on very well.” He pushed the roll of parchment toward Fred.

Fred tried to read it but it was full of scratched out partial sentences.

“Dear Mr. Bagman,

Per our last letter, you will be aware that our winnings from the bet we placed with you in August were not genuine Galleons. You gave us Leprechaun gold you dirty cheating scum-

If you refuse to satisfy the wager we will be forced to-

Our father-“

George had crossed out that line so violently, he had torn the parchment.

Fred ran a hand through his hair and laid the parchment back down. He pointed at one of the sentences.

“I think dirty cheating scum sums it up pretty well.” He said.

“No — that sounds like we’re accusing him. Aren’t you the one who’s been saying we’ve got to be careful . . .” George hissed in a half-whisper.

George suddenly seemed to realize that the common room had emptied considerably. They both looked around and saw Harry looking right at them. Harry smiled and gave a friendly wave before looking back down at his and Ron's homework.

His eyes still on Harry and Ron’s table, Fred muttered, “Maybe we should finish this tomorrow.”

George nodded and rolled up the parchment. They went up to their dormitory and got ready for bed. If only the potion would work, Fred thought as he climbed into his four-poster bed, they wouldn’t need to bother with Bagman. One of them might be made champion and if they won, the shop would still have a chance.

The next few weeks seemed to speed by. The potion was coming along now, the mandrake leaf having set things back on track. Fred and George had finished their letter, keeping the tone similar to the first but telling Bagman they expected their winnings no later than the end of the month.

Fred had been so sure they would have at least gotten a response from Bagman after that, even a letter telling them off. Every morning, however, nothing. He and George searched all the owls in the morning post, growing more and more apprehensive every day.

Their lessons had become more and more complicated, suddenly the teachers all expected them to begin using nonverbal spells. Even the fact that Fred and George were taking so few classes didn’t feel like much of an advantage. He felt like a first-year all over again, struggling to perform even the simplest of spells without uttering a word. Every day in classes, his classmates struggled, red-faced in concentration, trying to perform magic without uttering a sound. One Charms lesson, Kenneth Towler actually passed out from holding his breath trying to perform a wordless Summoning Charm. Fred wished he had Quidditch to distract him. Nothing helped take his mind off of troubles, schoolwork, or help him work through inventor’s block with Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes like a long training session.

The week before Halloween, he found something to distract himself from Bagman, missing Quidditch and all his unsatisfactory lessons. When they arrived in the entrance hall, Fred, George and Lee found themselves unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase. Lee, the tallest of them, read it aloud,

“TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

The delegations from Beauxbatons and

Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o’clock

on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will

end half an hour early. Students will return their bags and books

to their dormitories and assemble in front

of the castle to greet our guests before

the Welcoming Feast.”

“Excellent,” he grinned at Fred and George. “The potion is nearly ready for bottling. This is it, lads.”

Fred grinned back at Lee and George, a real surge of excitement and adrenaline spiking through him. Here it was, and they were ready.

****************

Ready or not, however, the next week passed painfully slowly, and by the time he and George had sat down to breakfast on the morning of the 30th of October, he had regained his sour mood. Bagman had not responded to their second letter and Fred didn’t think it likely that he was waiting to send their gold at the last second.

“It’s a bummer, all right,” George said gloomily to Fred, stabbing his eggs violently. “But if he won’t talk to us in person, we’ll have to send him the next letter after all. Or we’ll stuff it into his hand. He can’t avoid us forever.”

“Who’s avoiding you?” said Ron, sitting down next to them.

“Wish you would,” said Fred, irritated at the interruption.

“What’s a bummer?” Ron asked George.

“Having a nosy git like you for a brother,” said George.

“You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament yet?” Harry asked. “Thought any more about trying to enter?”

“I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she wasn’t telling,” said George bitterly. “She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon.”

“Wonder what the tasks are going to be?” said Ron thoughtfully. “You know, I bet we could do them, Harry. We’ve done dangerous stuff before. . . .”

“Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven’t,” said Fred.

“McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they’ve done the tasks.”

“Who are the judges?” Harry asked.

“Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel,” said Hermione, and everyone looked around at her, rather surprised, “because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792 when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage.”

She noticed them all looking at her and said, with her usual air of impatience that nobody else had read all the books she had, “It’s all in Hogwarts, A History. Though, of course, that book’s not entirely reliable. A Revised History of Hogwarts would be a more accurate title. Or A Highly Biased and Selective History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School.”

“What are you on about?” said Ron, though Fred thought he knew what was coming.

“House-elves!” said Hermione, her eyes flashing. “Not once, in over a thousand pages, does Hogwarts, A History mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!”

Ron now rolled his eyes at the ceiling, which was flooding them all in autumn sunlight, and Fred became extremely interested in his bacon. Both he and George had already refused to purchase a S.P.E.W badge, and they weren’t the only ones. Most people seemed to think the whole thing was a joke, but that hadn’t slowed Hermione down. She shook her collection tin in people’s faces every evening in the common room saying things like,

“You do realize that your sheets are changed, your fires lit, your classrooms cleaned, and your food cooked by a group of magical creatures who are unpaid and enslaved?

George, however, leaned in toward Hermione.

“Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?”

“No, of course not,” said Hermione curtly, “I hardly think students are supposed to —”

“Well, we have,” said George, indicating Fred, “loads of times, to nick food. And we’ve met them, and they’re happy. They think they’ve got the best job in the world —”

“That’s because they’re uneducated and brainwashed!” Hermione began hotly, but her next few words were drowned out by the sudden whooshing noise from overhead, which announced the arrival of the post owls.

Fred stopped paying attention and looked at all the owls, silently begging one of them to land in front of them. When none did, he scowled and pushed his plate away from him. George followed suit and the two of them left the Great Hall. As they walked toward the Charms classroom, Fred said in a determined voice,

“If he’s a judge, he’ll have to be here tonight right? He can’t ignore us in person right?”

“Right,” George said grimly, as they entered the classroom.

The Triwizard Tournament was all anyone could talk about for the rest of the day and when it was time to put away their bags and line up to greet the other schools, Fred couldn’t help but forget his bad mood and join in the excitement. Fred and George lined up with Lee and a few other Gryffindor 6th years who were chattering animatedly about how the delegations would arrive.

Fred heard his father’s words from the Quidditch World Cup in his head. “always the same — we can’t resist showing off when we get together. . . .”

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers —

“Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!”

“Where?” said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

“There!” yelled a Ravenclaw sixth year Fred didn’t know, pointing over the forest.

Something large, much larger than a broomstick — or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks — was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.

“It’s a dragon!” shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.

“Don’t be stupid . . . it’s a flying house!” said Dennis Creevey from the front row.

Dennis’s guess was closer. . . . As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powder blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed —then, with an almighty crash the horses’ hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground.

A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery-red eyes.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage — a shoe the size of a child’s sled — followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman he had ever seen in his life. The size of the carriage, and the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped.

Fred had only seen one person this large and that was Hagrid. Maybe because he was used to Hagrid however, this woman seemed to be larger than life. Everything from her enormous opal necklace to her shiny bun the size of a basketball.

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.

Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

“My dear Madame Maxime,” he said. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

“Dumbly-dorr,” said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. “I ’ope I find you well?”

“In excellent form, I thank you,” said Dumbledore.

“My pupils,” said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

Fred, whose attention had been focused completely upon Madame Maxime, now noticed that about a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads.

“ ’As Karkaroff arrived yet?” Madame Maxime asked.

“He should be here any moment,” said Dumbledore. “Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?”

“Warm up, I think,” said Madame Maxime. “But ze ’orses —”

“Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them,” said Dumbledore, “the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other — er — charges.”

“My steeds require — er — forceful ’andling,” said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. “Zey are very strong. . . .”

“I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job,” said Dumbledore, smiling.

“Very well,” said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. “Will you please inform zis ’Agrid zat ze ’orses drink only single-malt whiskey?”

“It will be attended to,” said Dumbledore, also bowing.

“Come,” said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

“How do you reckon Durmstrang is going to top this lot,” George said excitedly to Lee and Fred.

For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime’s huge horses snorting and stamping. But then —

“Can you hear something?” said Ron suddenly from another row.

A loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward them from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed. . . .

“The lake!” yelled Lee, pointing down at it. “Look at the lake!”

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water — except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all.

Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks — and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake’s floor. . . .

What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool . . . and then Fred saw the rigging. . . .

“It’s a mast!” he gasped.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship merged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship’s portholes. All of them, Fred noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of goons like Flint and Montague . . . but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, he saw that their bulk was due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

“Dumbledore!” he called heartily as he walked up the slope.

“How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?”

“Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff,” Dumbledore replied.

“Dear old Hogwarts,” Karkaroff said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow. “How good it is to be here, how good. . . . Viktor, come along, into the warmth . . . you don’t mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold. . . .”

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, Fred caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He didn’t need the punch on the arm Lee gave him, or the hiss in his ear, to recognize that profile.

“I don’t believe it! It’s Krum!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long, long chapter to finally carry us into the Triwizard Tournament. I'm sorry there is a ton of exposition directly from GOF, but the next few chapters should be pretty light on it. Fingers crossed...I hope. I'm both looking forward to and dreading having to write Harry and Ron's fight and the first task but it's going to be a fun ride seeing the fight from Ron's perspective this time around. D: 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed some good wholesome Fredmione fluff this week! I'm really excited for the next few installments, especially the Yule Ball. I have a few things planned that I can't wait to share with you all. 
> 
> Also, I know it's a minor detail but I do like to explain myself so to speak when I take creative liberties. Technically I don't know what spell Hermione would use to create the badges, but the only similar spell mentioned in the books is when Harry colors one of his eyebrows in 6th year Transfiguration before asking Luna to go to Slughorn's party with him. So I assume it's an advanced Transfiguration spell. As for a mandrake leaf, I made that up 100%. I was going off of the cooking tip to throw a chopped up potato in sauce that is too salty. XD
> 
> As always, I am blown away by the knowledge that people love this story as much as I do. You all make my day everyday! Until next time!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any part of the Harry Potter Universe. 
> 
> This chapter contains direct quotation from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

All around them, excited voices could be heard. Fred could hear Ron say, “Krum, Harry! Viktor Krum!” The teachers had begun to direct students to follow the Durmstrang delegation inside. As they began to move, Fred caught other snippets of conversation.

Behind him, Angelina, Katie, Alicia, and a few other girls in their year were searching their pockets frantically.

“Oh, I don’t believe it! I haven’t got a single quill on me,” Alicia said sadly.

“D’you think he’d sign my hat in lipstick?” Patricia Stimpson said.

George shook his head as they passed at the girls, now squabbling over the lipstick.

“Barking mad,” he said. “Mind you, I’m going to get his autograph, but I’m not going to make a fool of myself doing it.”

Inside the Great Hall, they took their seats at the Gryffindor table. Lee kept craning his neck to peer over to where the Durmstrang students were looking around the Great Hall, impressed looks on their faces.

“Oh, come on! Don’t sit over there! No!” Lee said bitterly, as the Durmstrang students took their seats at the Slytherin table. Viktor Krum had sat opposite Malfoy, who looked very smug about the seating arrangments. 

The teachers came in and when Madame Maxine entered, the Beaubaton students all sprung out of their seats at the Ravenclaw table. A few of the Hogwarts students giggled and laughed, Fred gave George a questioning look.

George shrugged as Dumbledore stood to give the opening remarks.

" Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and — most particularly — guests,” said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. “I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!”

The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than Fred had ever seen, including several that were foreign. Fred wrinkled his nose at a dish he had heard someone refer to as “bouillabaisse” and served himself some of the black pudding Ron passed him.

About fifteen minutes into the feast, George went rather slack-jawed at something over Fred’s shoulder. Fred turned around and felt his jaw drop at the sight of the girl talking to Ron a few places down the table. She had waist-length white-blond hair, large blue eyes, and very white, straight teeth. She took a dish from him and walked back to the Ravenclaw table, oblivious to the looks she was getting from a good number of the boys in the Hall as she passed.

“I’m telling you, that’s not a normal girl!” Fred heard Ron say, leaning sideways so he could keep a clear view of her. “They don’t make them like that at Hogwarts!”

“They make them okay at Hogwarts,” said Harry, a bit absently. Fred nodded in agreement for a moment without thinking. Hermione was sitting on Ron’s other side, closest to himself, George and Lee.

“When you’ve both put your eyes back in,” said Hermione briskly, “you’ll be able to see who’s just arrived.”

She was pointing up at the staff table. The two remaining empty seats had just been filled. Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Professor Karkaroff’s other side, while Mr. Crouch, Percy’s boss, was next to Madame Maxime.

Fred elbowed George sharply in the ribs.

“Ah-what was that for?” George said, wincing.

“He’s here.” Fred hissed to him.

George’s eyes widened then narrowed as he located Bagman at the table. Not taking his eyes off Bagman, he said, “What’s the plan? Try to corner him after the feast.”

“Only thing we can do, I think. Now we wait.” Fred said. Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Fred felt a thrill of excitement, despite himself. Even if he and George did get their gold back, he still planned to enter the tournament. Fred thought privately that even if there weren’t a prize, he would still try to enter for the glory of it alone.

“The moment has come,” said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. “The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me-“

Fred glared at Bagman as Dumbledore introduced him and Crouch. Bagman, perhaps from his former Quidditch days, got a much more enthusiastic round of applause from most of the school. Fred and George, however, sat with arms folded in front of them, their teeth gritted.

“You two okay?” Lee asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament,” Dumbledore continued, “and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions’ efforts.”

At the mention of the word “champions,” the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, “The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch.”

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old.

“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman,” said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, “and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways . . . their magical prowess — their daring — their powers of deduction — and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.”

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing. Fred and George grinned at each other.

“As you know, three champions compete in the tournament,” Dumbledore went on calmly, “one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire.”

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.

Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be visible to everyone in the Hall. “Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet,” said Dumbledore. “Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

“To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation,” said Dumbledore, “I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

“Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all.”

“An Age Line!” Fred said to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, his eyes glinting, as they all made their way across the Hall toward the doors into the entrance hall. “Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn’t it? And once your name’s in that goblet, you’re laughing — it can’t tell whether you’re seventeen or not!”

“But I don’t think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance,” said Hermione, “we just haven’t learned enough . . .”

“Speak for yourself,” said George shortly. “You’ll try and get in, won’t you, Harry?” But George wasn’t looking at Harry. His eyes were still on the Head Table where Bagman had stood and was talking to Dumbledore. Dumbledore nodded to something Bagman said and gestured out of the Hall. The two of them walked out of the Hall through a side door next to the teacher’s table. Fred stopped next to him and set his jaw.

“No, you have got to be kidding. Now when are we supposed to talk to him?” Fred said, frustrated.

George bit his lip. “We could try to wait.”

But no sooner had they come to this decision, did Professor McGonagall come to usher them along.

“Weasley, Weasley, what are you doing, you’re blocking the exit! You heard the Headmaster, off to bed at once!”

George groaned when they got out to the entrance hall. “Well, he’ll have to be here for the Halloween Feast, right? That’s when the champions are being chosen.”

“Right. We’ll talk to him then.” Fred said, feeling disappointed. “Besides, there’s still tomorrow. Who knows, it might be one of us that gets chosen.”

George grinned at him. “Too right you are, Freddie.”

****************

“Alright lads, we’re all agreed? We all take the potion, we all enter, and if one of us gets picked we split the prize three ways?” Lee held the droppers out to Fred and George, his eyes wild with excitement.

Fred and George nodded. Taking the dropper, Fred felt a rush of nervous adrenaline. What if Hermione was right? What if this didn’t work? How mad would Dumbledore be if someone underage did manage to get over the Age Line? His other fist tightened over the slip of parchment in his pocket that read, ‘Fred Weasley- Hogwarts’.

He closed his eyes and saw in his mind the vision of winning the Triwizard Tournament again, of being presented a sack full of 1000 Galleons, of the whole school cheering as he held the Triwizard Cup up and his resolve strengthened.

“Cheers,” he said opening his eyes with a wide grin. He squeezed the drop into his open mouth. It tasted like nothing and after he swallowed it, he was a bit disappointed to find that he didn’t feel different either. He was positive that the potion had been perfect, but Fred had expected to actually feel older.

George and Lee both emptied the droppers into their mouths and they all grinned at each other.

“Come on,” Lee said, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet as though he was about to run a marathon. “Let’s do this before I lose my nerve.”

The three of them left the bathroom and ran to the entrance hall where a crowd was milling around, watching the cup. Considering it was still reasonably early on a Saturday morning, it was rather full. Fred could see Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the crowd and lead the way over to them up behind them.

“Done it,” Fred said in a triumphant whisper to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “Just taken it.”

“What?” Said Ron.

“The Aging Potion, dung brains,” said Fred.

“One drop each,” said George, rubbing his hands together with glee. “We only need to be a few months older.”

“We’re going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins,” said Lee, grinning broadly.

“I’m not sure this is going to work, you know,” said Hermione warningly. “I’m sure Dumbledore will have thought of this.”

Fred, George, and Lee ignored her.

“Ready?” Fred said to the other two, quivering with excitement. This was it. He pulled the slip out of his pocket and looked down at the ‘Fred Weasley — Hogwarts’ again. He looked at Lee and George grinning. “C’mon, then — I’ll go first —”

He walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there for a moment, suddenly feeling very aware of the fact that every eye in the hall was on him. Feeling as though he was preparing to dive headlong off a cliff, he braced himself and stepped over the line.

It worked! The potion worked! Fred thought to himself, grinning widely. He let out a deep breath. George gave a triumphant shout and jumped over the line as well. The next moment, however, there was a loud sizzling sound, and Fred felt himself being thrown backward. He landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor. He could hear George moaning painfully next to him.

As he sat up, there was a loud popping sound and a curious sensation on the lower half of his face. The entire entrance hall erupted in laughter. Fred got to his feet and held out his hand to George. That was when he saw the long white beard that had sprouted from George’s face. George took one look at Fred and nearly fell over again laughing. Fred joined in as well when he looked down and saw that he too had a long white beard trailing from his face.

“I did warn you,” said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall.

He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. “I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours.”

“Thanks, Professor,” Fred said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. He pulled George along with him as George was laughing too hard to walk properly. As they left the hall and headed toward the hospital wing, Lee howled with laughter. Every time he began to calm down, he would simply look at one of them and start cracking up again.

Madam Pomfrey was in a foul temper when they arrived. She bustled up the ward as they walked in.  
  
“Oh, it’s you two, is it? Decided to age yourselves up a bit? Well, I’m sure you won’t be the last ones.” Madam Pomfrey said with a huff before ushering them over to beds.

She had their beards removed in a matter of minutes, huffing a bit about the Tournament and “dangerous, unnecessary extracurricular activities.”

As they left the hospital wing about an hour later however, Fred finally felt the amusement at the situation die away.

“Well, that’s it then.” He said, gloomily.

“Yeah,” Lee said, sighing. “I suppose we probably wouldn’t have been picked anyway.”

“Speak for your self.” George grinned. “We all know it was going to be me. Probably for the best, so you two don't get jealous.”

Lee rolled his eyes as they walked. “You know, I heard Angelina was going to enter. She just turned of age. I wonder if she actually did.”

“I hope so,” Fred said seriously. “You know Warrington said he was going to enter? We can’t have a Slytherin champion.” He shook his head in disgust.

“Better Angelina than Pretty Boy Diggory too,” Lee said scowling. A couple of passing Hufflepuffs turned to glare at him.

***************

They spent the rest of the day in the common room, playing games of Exploding Snap with Ginny and speculating over who would be named school champion with Angelina, Katie, and Alicia. By the end of the afternoon, Fred was feeling much better about the situation and was even able to give Angelina a sincere good luck wish when they made their way down to the Great Hall for dinner.

As they entered the Great Hall, Fred leaned into mutter to George, “This time, we don’t let him leave without talking to us right?”

George nodded, a grim look on his face.

Fred grinned at Harry, Ron, and Hermione as they sat down at the table.

“Hope its Angelina,” he said when they sat down.

“So do I!” said Hermione breathlessly. “Well, we’ll soon know!” Fred smiled broadly at her. He rarely saw this side of Hermione, the side that could get so excited she practically bounced out of her seat.

She leaned in and said quietly to him, "So how are you?"

He shrugged. "Okay, I suppose. We got the chance to try at least." He said with a wink.

Hermione smiled at him as the platters down the table magically filled with food. 

The feast seemed to take ages longer than other feasts Fred had attended. Judging by the other students craning their necks to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet, he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Perhaps it was because they had had another feast so recently, but Fred couldn’t remember the last time he had cared less about the feasts. Finally, Dumbledore stood. All sound in the Great Hall seemed to die away instantly.

“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” said Dumbledore. “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them to please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber” — he indicated the door behind the staff table — “where they will be receiving their first instructions.”

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting. . . . A few people kept checking their watches. . . .

" Any second,” Lee whispered loudly.

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. The next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it — the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm’s length so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

“The champion for Durmstrang,” he read, in a strong, clear voice, “will be Viktor Krum.”

“No surprises there!” yelled Ron as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Viktor Krum rose from the Slytherin table and slouched up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

“Bravo, Viktor!” boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. “Knew you had it in you!”

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone’s attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. The second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

“The champion for Beauxbatons,” said Dumbledore, “is Fleur Delacour!”

“It’s her, Ron!” Fred heard Harry shout as the girl who so resembled a veela got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip, Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment. George threw his arm over Angelina’s shoulder in support and all the nearby Gryffindors crossed their fingers.

“The Hogwarts champion,” he called, “is Cedric Diggory!”

It suddenly sounded as though there had been an explosion. Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers’ table. Angelina certainly looked disappointed, but at least she hadn’t dissolved into tears as some of the girls at the Beaubaton table had.

“Still say it should have been you, Ang,” George said, giving her a friendly squeeze.

“Thanks.” Angelina gave a half-smile.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. “Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real —”

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.

The goblet glowed red once more and another piece of parchment was expelled from the flame. Every eye in the hall seemed fixed to the piece of parchment that fluttered in the air. Dumbledore reached out to grab it almost reflexively. He looked at the parchment for a long moment before he spoke. He cleared his throat and spoke.

“Harry Potter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied! This chapter is also very full of copy and paste text from Goblet of Fire because it was basically just scenes from GOF from Fred's perspective. Believe me, I hate it as much as I'm sure you guys do. D: I can give an iron clad PROMISE that the next chapter is very light on it and I can also promise that it will be lighter the further into the series we get. Next up is Harry and Ron's fight. 
> 
> My other big note this week is something I feel should be mentioned since it just happened this week. JKR made some very derogatory remarks toward the Transgender community on Twitter this week and it made a lot of us upset (and for good reason). I will be honest, her habit of "meddling after the ink is dry" is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to things I've been growing more and more disappointed with JKR the person over the last few years. Don't even get me started on the canonical plot holes she green lit for the screenplay of Fantastic Beasts. 
> 
> I don't want to say that her remarks this week have ruined Harry Potter for me, because they haven't, but they have tinted the lens I look at the series through. I'm trying so hard to separate the art from the artist and to remember that MY Hogwarts, the Wizarding World I fell in love with, is a place that fights oppression and discrimination. As long as there are people like Hermione in the Wizarding World, there would be people to fight for Trans rights. 
> 
> "You will also find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it." That means to anyone. You are valid, you are worthy and Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home. 
> 
> Until next time.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any part of the Harry Potter Universe. This chapter contains direct text from Harry Potter and the GOF.

Hermione left for breakfast early. She’d spent the night tossing and turning, thinking about the Triwizard Tournament and why someone would want to enter Harry in it. She'd tried to catch Ron’s eye to discuss it with him the night before, but he had bolted from the Great Hall as soon as Professor Dumbledore had dismissed them. He hadn’t been in the Common Room either when she had arrived there. There had been so many people crowded in the Common Room and ready to celebrate, she had just gone to bed thinking she would talk to Ron and Harry in the morning. Instead, she had discussed the night’s events with Ginny as they walked back to the Common Room the night before.

Hermione had been relieved to find that Ginny, unlike the rest of the school it seemed, agreed with her that someone had entered Harry in the tournament.

“Well, you saw his face right? There’s no way he did it. You know how much he hates all the attention he gets.” Ginny had said. “Anyway, you saw how the whole school reacted. He wouldn't go trying to get that kind of attention.”

Hermione didn’t think that whoever entered Harry in the tournament had simply wanted to ruin his popularity, but with a sigh, she thought back to the reaction of the school when Harry’s name had been pulled out of the Goblet. Angry mutters from the other three tables, everyone buzzing like a hive of bees. Hermione pursed her lips, remembering how the school had reacted when they all thought Harry was the Heir of Slytherin. She did not doubt that they would react similarly to this turn of events. She needed to get to breakfast early so she could think about the best course of action before she and Ron saw Harry.

She was surprised however to find that while the Great Hall was sparsely populated with students eating so early, Ron was already sitting at the Gryffindor table alone picking at a plate of eggs and sausages. Hermione sat across from him.

"Oh good, you’re awake. Is Harry still asleep? Is that why he didn’t come down with you? I really think that when he does come down, we should talk to him about writing to Sirius straight away, don’t you? How was he last night?” Hermione asked in a rush as she began to load her plate with eggs and toast.

Ron scowled down at his plate. He spoke with a venom that shocked Hermione. “Just fine, I expect. He got picked as school champion didn't he? You heard that friend of the Fat Lady’s from last night. They’re letting him compete after all.”

Hermione had frozen in the middle of pouring a glass of pumpkin juice. It wasn’t until the goblet overflowed and spilled onto the table that she realized what she was doing.

Grabbing a napkin, she began mopping up the table. “Ron, you can’t honestly believe that he entered himself in the Tournament? How could he have? Even Fred and George couldn’t do it.”

“He told me so himself. Said that if it had been him, he would have snuck down in the middle of the night and entered when no one else was around. Just think he could have decided to tell his supposed best friends. I would have entered with him, you know. I expect he didn’t want more competition. I mean, a thousand Galleon prize and none of the champions have to take exams at the end of the year either.” Ron continued, his voice getting angrier as he spoke.

Hermione’s mouth had fallen open but she had no words. Ron, however, seemed to be building himself into real steam as he continued.

“What does he even need with a thousand Galleons? I’ve seen his vault at Gringotts. I bet even Malfoy would be jealous. You know, it really must be nice to have so much money you don’t know what to do with it. So much you can flaunt it in front of your friends, buying things for them. Like Omnioculars you know they could never afford without you.”

“Ron,” Hermione said slowly. “Where is this coming from? You know why he has that money. He inherited it.”

“That’s just it, isn’t it? He has the fame, the money, can’t even go out in public without everyone queuing up to try to get near him. It’s always him, and now he’s school champion too!” Ron’s ears were beginning to turn red, always a warning sign. Hermione decided to try a different tact.

“That’s just it. Someone is always trying to get near him. What more convenient way to get Harry hurt or worse than to enter him in the Triwizard Tournament? People have been killed in this Tournament, Ron. You saw his face last night, how shocked he was. You can’t possibly think he entered himself.”

Ron waved her off dismissively. “Everyone says it’s going to be safer, Hermione. Nobody is going to die. Believe me, he didn’t look so shocked last night, walking into the dormitory wearing a Gryffindor banner, half the house there to congratulate him."

He shook his head, glaring at the table.

“You know, I’m getting really tired of always having to be Harry Potter’s stupid friend who doesn’t even merit getting the truth.” Ron deflated as he finished, the hurt finally showing in his eyes as he looked up at Hermione.

“Ron, you don’t mean that,” Hermione said quietly.

“Don’t I, Hermione? I mean, don’t you get tired of it? Don’t you get tired of having to be the collateral damage of being friends with him? I got my leg broken in half last year! And you spent half the year petrified the year before! When does it end?”

“Harry wasn’t the reason I was petrified and you know it, Ron,” Hermione said, frowning. Ron acted as if he hadn't heard her as he continued.

“Yeah, well I thought I knew a lot of things up until last night. You know, I would rather not sit here and listen to you tell me how stupid I am too. I’ve had enough of that from last night.” Ron said, standing from the table roughly and stalking off.

Hermione stared at his plate long after he had gone. She had never expected Ron’s reaction. How could he think that Harry had entered himself in the Tournament? Hermione didn’t think that Ron believed that Harry had entered himself in the tournament. How could he have? What had Ron said to him the night before? Sighing, Hermione pushed her untouched plate away from her and grabbed a napkin. She began stacking toast in it.

Hermione left the Great Hall purposefully, intending to go find Harry. The sound of her name, however, made her stop in front of the marble staircase. Looking up, she saw Fred and George coming down the large steps.

“Morning.” George greeted her. “Aren’t you missing two-thirds of your usual dining companions?”

Hermione rubbed a spot on her temple, closing her eyes. “Well I just spoke with one and now I’m going to go find the other.”

“Er, is everything okay Hermione?” Fred asked.

“It will be when Ron comes to his senses and realizes that there’s no way Harry could have entered himself in the Tournament,” Hermione said hoping the pounding headache forming near her right temple would go away soon.

“Well, of course, he didn’t,” George said in a tone that suggested that it was obvious. Hermione’s eye’s snapped open in surprise.

“I mean, come on Hermione. If George and I couldn’t figure it out, there’s no way Harry could have. At least not without your help.” Fred said in a matter of fact tone.

Hermione smiled at that.

“Now if you could just make Ron understand that. He’s a bit, er, upset.” She said, biting her lip.

George rolled his eyes. “Ron’s always upset about something or other. He’ll get over it. Just give it about five minutes.”

“I hope so, he’s really upset right now.” Hermione sighed, looking toward the staircase back to the common room. “Well, I had better go find Harry.”

She bid them goodbye and made her way upstairs. As she walked up to the common room, she thought about what she would say to Harry. She still thought he should write to Sirius straight away. Finding out who had entered Harry in the tournament was of the utmost importance, and Sirius would likely have more ideas than Hermione would. She also thought it might help Harry to have someone else to turn to, like a parent.

As she rounded the corner and walked up to the Fat Lady, the portrait swung open. Harry climbed out, looking frustrated and slightly annoyed. He seemed slightly surprised but pleased to see Hermione.

"Hello,” she said holding up the stack of toast. “I brought you this. . . . Want to go for a walk?”

“Good idea,” said Harry gratefully.

They went downstairs, crossed the entrance hall quickly without looking in at the Great Hall, and were soon striding across the lawn toward the lake, where the Durmstrang ship was moored, reflected blackly in the water. It was a chilly morning, and they kept moving, munching their toast, as Harry told Hermione exactly what had happened after he had left the Gryffindor table the night before.

"...and then they told us the first task will be on November 24th. It's supposed to 'test our daring'." Harry put the piece of toast he had been eating back down, looking a bit sick.

"Well, of course, I knew you hadn’t entered yourself,” Hermione said, thinking now might not be the best time to focus on the unknown first task. “The look on your face when Dumbledore read out your name! But the question is, who did put it in? Because Moody’s right, Harry . . . I don’t think any student could have done it . . . they’d never be able to fool the Goblet, or get over Dumbledore’s —”

"Have you seen Ron?” Harry interrupted. Hermione hesitated. This was the question she had been dreading.

“Erm . . . yes . . . he was at breakfast,” she said.

“Does he still think I entered myself?”

" Well . . . no, I don’t think so . . . not really,” said Hermione awkwardly.

" What’s that supposed to mean, ‘not really’?”

“Oh Harry, isn’t it obvious?” Hermione said despairingly. “He’s jealous!”

“Jealous?” Harry said incredulously. “Jealous of what? He wants to make a prat of himself in front of the whole school, does he?”

Hermione thought for a moment on how best to answer. She did understand that Harry hated every bit of the attention he got and that Ron seemed to habitually forget the reason Harry was so famous. She also knew that Harry would trade places with Ron in half a second, given the choice. She didn’t agree with Ron, but she did understand his jealousy. Growing up with five older brothers, Ron never got to do anything first and spent his life being compared to those brothers. Even Ginny was the youngest child and the only girl, so Ron felt overshadowed even by her. She could understand why being friends with Harry, Ron always felt shunted to the side when he was with Harry.

" Look,” said Hermione patiently, “it’s always you who gets all the attention, you know it is. I know it’s not your fault,” she added quickly, seeing Harry open his mouth furiously. “I know you don’t ask for it . . . but — well — you know, Ron’s got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you’re his best friend, and you’re famous — he’s always shunted to one side whenever people see you, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time too many. . . .”

" Great,” said Harry bitterly. “Really great. Tell him from me I’ll swap any time he wants. Tell him from me he’s welcome to it. . . . People gawping at my forehead everywhere I go. . . .”

“I’m not telling him anything,” Hermione said shortly. “Tell him yourself. It’s the only way to sort this out.”

She glared at him. Hermione had already decided on the walk back to the Common Room that she wasn't getting in the middle of it. The only way for them to solve the problem was to talk to each other. 

“I’m not running around after him trying to make him grow up!” Harry said, so loudly that several owls in a nearby tree took flight in alarm.

“Maybe he’ll believe I’m not enjoying myself once I’ve got my neck broken or —”

Hermione’s stomach lurched violently. The thought of Harry being seriously hurt or worse in the Tournament was, in fact, a real possibility.

“That’s not funny,” said Hermione quietly. “That’s not funny at all.” She looked extremely anxious. That’s why they had to talk to Sirius. Hermione felt at a loss for what to do, and seeking advice from someone outside Hogwarts felt better than doing nothing. “Harry, I’ve been thinking — you know what we’ve got to do, don’t you? Straight away, the moment we get back to the castle?”

The more she thought about the reasons why Harry might have been entered in the tournament, she felt sure that consulting Sirius was the best thing to do. From the letters that Harry had let her and Ron read, it had sounded like Sirius had been anticipating something like this for a while. Perhaps since the night Wormtail had escaped. Harry’s next words broke through her thoughts.

“Yeah, give Ron a good kick up the —”

“Write to Sirius." Hermione fought to keep her face stern. "You've got to tell him what’s happened. He asked you to keep him posted on everything that’s going on at Hogwarts. It’s almost as if he expected something like this to happen. I brought some parchment and a quill out with me —”

“Come off it,” said Harry, looking around to check that they couldn’t be overheard, but the grounds were quite deserted. “He came back to the country just because my scar twinged. He’ll probably come bursting right into the castle if I tell him someone’s entered me in the Triwizard Tournament —”

“He’d want you to tell him,” said Hermione sternly. She had also decided that if Harry refused to write to Sirius, she would do it herself. “He’s going to find out anyway —”

“How?”

“Harry, this isn’t going to be kept quiet,” said Hermione, very seriously. “This tournament’s famous, and you’re famous. I’ll be really surprised if there isn’t anything in the Daily Prophet about you competing. . . . You’re already in half the books about You-Know-Who, you know . . . and Sirius would rather hear it from you, I know he would.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll write to him,” said Harry, throwing his last piece of toast into the lake.

They both stood and watched it floating there for a moment before a large tentacle rose out of the water and scooped it beneath the surface. Then they returned to the castle.

“Whose owl am I going to use?” Harry said as they climbed the stairs. “He told me not to use Hedwig again.”

“Ask Ron if you can borrow —”

“I’m not asking Ron for anything,” Harry said flatly.

“Well, borrow one of the school owls, then, anyone can use them,” said Hermione. They went up to the Owlery. Hermione gave Harry a piece of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink, then strolled around the long lines of perches, looking at all the different owls, while Harry sat down against a wall and wrote his letter.

After a few moments, he rolled up the letter and looked up.

“Finished,” he told Hermione, getting to his feet and brushing straw off his robes. At this, Hedwig came fluttering down onto his shoulder and held out her leg.

“I can’t use you,” Harry told her, looking around for the school owls. “I’ve got to use one of these. . . .”

Hedwig gave a very loud hoot and took off so suddenly that her talons cut into his shoulder. She kept her back to Harry all the time he was tying his letter to the leg of a large barn owl. When the barn owl had flown off, Harry reached out to stroke Hedwig, but she clicked her beak furiously and soared up into the rafters out of reach.

“First Ron, then you,” said Harry angrily. “This isn’t my fault.”

Hermione bit her lip again. She had almost managed to forget Ron for a few moments. She still didn’t even know where he had gone for that matter. She rubbed the place on her temple again.

“They’ll both come around. They have to.” She said with a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!!!! I hope you all enjoy this surprise chapter update and are having a wonderful holiday season this year! :) I woke up at 6:30 this morning to surprise my pets with their Christmas stockings this year and by 9:00, they have almost destroyed all their toys. Alas, they are happy. We're going to watch movies, have mulled wine, and Christmas treats today and will celebrate our wedding anniversary tomorrow. :D The awesome part about getting married at Christmas time is that we always get our anniversary off work! 
> 
> I did my best to keep my promise with this chapter. Most of the direct quotation comes from dialogue. As for Ron and Hermione's breakfast talk, I got a lot of inspiration from 'Envy' in FloreatCastellum's Hogwarts Hidden Moments series. I highly recommend it if you haven't read it!
> 
> As always you guys give me the most amazing gift in the form of your kind comments and kudos. :D Thank you so much for always making my day. Until next time. <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I do not own any part of the Wizarding Universe.

If Hermione believed what she had told Harry, the next few days had certainly served to prove her wrong. Everyone talked of nothing but Harry being made Triwizard champion the next few days. They didn’t even bother to lower their voices when she and Harry walked by.

Nearly everyone believed that Harry had entered himself in the tournament. Unlike the Gryffindors however, the rest of the school didn’t find it impressive. Hermione could understand the Hufflepuffs stance. Cedric had been their champion after all, and she had expected nothing less than outright animosity from the Slytherins. She had hoped however that some of the Ravenclaws might be willing to accept two Hogwarts champions. It was a hope in vain though, as they all seemed to think that Harry had just been unable to resist a bit more fame and glory.

The worst part of it was Ron. The previous morning, a group of Hufflepuff fifth years had booed and hissed at Harry when he had passed. Hermione had been walking about 10 feet away with Ron at the time and had elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

“You aren’t going to say anything? That’s your best friend, Ron. You’re going to just let them say that to him?” she had glared at Ron.

Ron rubbed his side. “Looks like he had it covered.” he scowled back at her. 

Hermione had stomped away from Ron at that point and had refused to speak to him for the rest of the day. Harry was no better though.

“Harry, if you could just sit down with hi-,” Hermione began in a weary tone the following afternoon as they left Charms. Harry and Ron had taken turns glaring at each other during the lesson while they were supposed to be practicing Summoning Charms. The result was that Harry was so unfocused, he did very badly with the charm and was the only one in the class other than Neville to get extra homework.

“No,” Harry said firmly, scowling at Ron’s back as they walked down the corridor.

“How long is this going to go on, Harry? The whole thing is getting ridiculous.” Hermione said in exasperation.

"When he’s ready to apologize, he knows where to find me,” Harry said.

Hermione let out a huff and decided to change the subject. “We can go over Summoning Charms this evening. It’s really not that difficult, Harry. You just weren’t concentrating properly —”

“Wonder why that was,” said Harry darkly as Cedric Diggory walked past, surrounded by a large group of simpering girls, all of whom looked at Harry as though he were a particularly large Blast Ended Skrewt. “Still — never mind, eh? Double Potions to look forward to this afternoon. . . .”

After lunch, Harry and Hermione had made their way down the stone steps to the dungeons for Potions. These days, Potions was even more torturous than usual. The Slytherins, and even Professor Snape, seemed to take it as their mission to make Harry as miserable as possible for daring to become a school champion. As they walked toward the group of their classmates waiting by the classroom door, the Slytherins began whispering excitedly to each other.

“Ignore them,” Hermione whispered to Harry, as she had done the previous lesson. Malfoy, in particular, wore an evil, expectant smile that made Hermione’s skin crawl. It reminded her too much of her nightmare over the summer. Her eyes fell to the brightly colored badge he wore. For a wild moment, she thought it was a S.P.E.W. badge. As they got closer, however, Hermione could read the words,

“Support CEDRIC DIGGORY- The REAL Hogwarts Champion”

“Like them, Potter?” said Malfoy loudly as they approached. “And this isn’t all they do — look!”

He pressed his badge into his chest, and the message upon it vanished, to be replaced by another one, which glowed green:

POTTER STINKS

The Slytherins howled with laughter. Each of them pressed their badges too until the message POTTER STINKS was shining brightly all around.

" Oh very funny,” Hermione said sarcastically to Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls, who were laughing harder than anyone, “really witty.”

Ron was standing against the wall with Dean and Seamus. He wasn’t laughing, but he wasn’t sticking up for Harry either. When Hermione tried to catch his eye, he suddenly became very preoccupied with the loose bit of Spellotape holding his copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi together.

"Want one, Granger?” said Malfoy, holding out a badge to Hermione, recapturing her attention.

“I’ve got loads. But don’t touch my hand, now. I’ve just washed it, you see; don’t want a Mudblood sliming it up.”

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but before she had even decided on what to say, she felt Harry push past her, drawing his wand to point at Malfoy’s nose. Most of their Potions class scattered down the corridor.

"Harry!” Hermione said warningly. She grabbed the back of his robes, but he pulled away from her. She tried to catch Ron’s eye again for help, but he wasn’t looking at her or Harry. He was looking at Malfoy with an odd expression on his face, half angry, half expectant.

“Go on, then, Potter,” Malfoy said quietly, drawing out his wand. “Moody’s not here to look after you now — do it, if you’ve got the guts —”

For a split second, they looked into each other’s eyes, then, at the same time, both acted.

“Furnunculus!” Harry yelled.

“Densaugeo!” screamed Malfoy.

Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles — Harry’s hit Goyle in the face, and Malfoy’s hit Hermione.

As the jet of light hit her face, Hermione felt the most horrible pulling sensation on her front teeth. Her hands scrambled to feel the damage. She felt her teeth beginning to force their way over her bottom lip and down her chin. Horrified, she tried to hide them behind her hands.

“Hermione!”

Ron had hurried forward to see what was wrong with her. His eyes looking frantic, he tried to pull her hands away from her mouth. He swore loudly when he caught a glimpse of her teeth.

" And what is all this noise about?” said a soft, deadly voice. Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give their explanations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Malfoy and said,

“Explain.”

“Potter attacked me, sir —”

“We attacked each other at the same time!” Harry shouted.

“— and he hit Goyle — look —”

Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi.

“Hospital wing, Goyle,” Snape said calmly.

“Malfoy got Hermione!” Ron said. “Look!”

Ron forced Hermione’s hands down from her mouth. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape’s back. Hermione felt tears of panic welling in her eyes.

Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, “I see no difference.”

Hermione’s stomach lurched horribly at his words. She turned and ran up the corridor, not bothering to listen if he called after her. The corridors were mercifully empty, as the afternoon lessons had begun. As she rounded the second-floor staircase, however, she saw Fred coming down the corridor. She looked frantically for somewhere to hide to avoid him, but it was no use. He called out to her as she tried to shield her face with her sleeves.

“Whoa, Hermione what’s going- Hermione! What happened?” Fred said in alarm.

He ran to meet her. Tears finally started to flow down her cheeks as Hermione realized there was no hiding her teeth, which were steadily making their way toward her waist. Fred looked at her for a moment, setting his jaw, then spoke in a surprisingly calm voice. 

“Come on.” He grabbed her hand and began pulling her toward the Hospital Wing. They ran inside as Madam Pomfrey bustled up the ward with a smoking goblet in her hand.

“Drink it quickly Goyle, then lie back. The swelling will go down soon.”

She looked up and Fred pushed Hermione forward. He had to pull her hands down from her mouth for Madam Pomfrey to properly see.

Her wand already out, Madam Pomfrey pointed it at Hermione’s mouth and said, “Finite Incantatum.”

The awful pulling sensation ceased. It was so instantaneous, she would have sighed in relief if her teeth hadn’t been almost two feet long.

“Take her to that bed over there.” Madam Pomfrey said sharply, before turning on her heel and hurrying back down the rows of beds.

Fred walked Hermione to a bed on the other side of the ward and helped her lay back. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, feeling rather sure that she had never been in a more humiliating, and utterly horrible situation. Fred sat in the chair next to the hospital bed and continued to hold her hand in both of his. He traced patterns on the back of it idly as he spoke,

“Are you okay Hermione?”

Hermione’s eyes flew open at the question and she glanced over to him arching an eyebrow. Fred looked rather embarrassed as he said,

“Sorry. That was a pretty stupid question. Let me try again. It’s going to be okay. Especially after George and I hex whoever did this to you.”

Hermione didn’t get the chance to respond in any way though as Madam Pomfrey came around the curtain. She had a plain hand mirror with her that she handed to Hermione. She looked over to Fred.  
  
“Weasley, you may go.” She said curtly.

Hermione gripped Fred’s hand tightly and looked wildly over to Fred. She had been on the verge of a panic attack before she ran into Fred, but he made her feel much calmer and safe.

“Er, I think she wants me to stay, ma’am,” Fred said, looking to Hermione for confirmation.

Hermione nodded her head as much as her teeth would allow, not releasing the iron grip she held on Fred’s hand.

“Fine. Miss Granger, I am going to use a Shrinking Charm to counteract the jinx. You will use that mirror to signal to me when your teeth are back to the size they were before.”

Madam Pomfrey waved her wand and Hermione’s teeth began to recede up toward her mouth. As they passed her chin, Hermione eased her grip on Fred’s hand.

Fred grinned at her and shook his hand. He made a show of flexing his fingers that Hermione was finally able to smile at.

As her teeth receded over her lower lip, an idea came to her. A bold, daring idea. Now was her chance, she thought with a jolt of excitement. Hermione had begged her parents at the start of every school year to let her shrink her teeth even though they had both flatly refused every year.

“No,” her father had said. “Hermione, we understand that for you, magic solves just about any problem, but this our business.”

Her mother had chimed in at this point. “Your father is right, dear. We just don’t think teeth and magic should mix. Your braces would correct it you would wear your retainer when you go back to school.”

Hermione had sulked about it but eventually resigned herself to the fact that she would have to wait until she was of age to shrink them herself. Here and now though, her parents couldn’t expect her to just keep the enormous teeth, could they?

No, they couldn’t, Hermione told herself. Besides, when would she be presented with another opportunity like this again? Hopefully, never, she thought with a shudder. Her teeth were almost exactly the size they had been before. Now was the time to make the choice. Heart beating loudly in her ears, Hermione watched her teeth shrink down to their original size. She stayed silent and watched them shrink to more proportionate size to the rest of her teeth. When she thought they looked perfect, she held her hand up.

“They’re exactly the way they were before?”

Hermione smiled experimentally. The change was so small but so transformative. Now that her teeth were more proportionate to the rest of her mouth, they fit into her smile better. In fact, they looked straighter than they had been before too. Perhaps, she thought wryly, she ought to thank Malfoy. She smiled widely and looked up.

“They’re perfect. Thank you so much, Madam Pomfrey.”

“Now lay here for 10 minutes. If nothing changes, you’re free to go back to class.”

She hurried out of the curtained area and they heard her say, “You, on the other hand, will be staying a bit longer, Goyle. Until the fungus dries out.”

Hermione lay back on the hospital bed and let out a sigh of relief. Madam Pomfrey hadn’t taken the mirror with her so Hermione was able to lift it to her face to examine her teeth again. Smiling at her reflection, she felt a nervous thrill when she thought about what her mother and father would say. They were sure to be angry with her, but Hermione found she didn’t feel guilty.

“So, can I finally ask you what happened?” Fred said, interrupting her thoughts.

“Malfoy.” Hermione sighed in exasperation. She became suddenly very aware of the fact that Fred was still holding her hand when his grip tightened slightly at the mention of Malfoy. “He and Harry tried to curse each other at the same time. Goyle and I got caught in the crossfire.

Hermione shook her head in frustration.

She continued, “You know, the worst part was Ron. He just stood there the whole time, watching it happen. This fight is becoming ridiculous.”

“Becoming? Ron’s petty jealousy has always been ridiculous. Frankly, I’m surprised he’s lasted as long as he has.” Fred said, rolling his eyes.

“If it lasts much longer, I don’t know if there’ll be any fixing it at all,” Hermione said, a bit sadly. She made to sit up and Fred helped her up. She turned to face him and swung her legs over the side of the hospital bed. She took her hand back and tucked her hair behind her ears a bit nervously.

“I give it another week, tops, before Ron cracks,” Fred said.

“I hope you’re right,” Hermione said, looking up and at the clock. There was still over 40 minutes of Potions left. Groaning, she said, “I really don’t know how I’m supposed to go back to Potions like nothing happened. All the Slytherins are going to be just awful.” She put her head in her hands.

“Then don’t,” Fred said in a tone that suggested the matter was settled.

“I couldn’t just skip class. I’m perfectly fine now.” Hermione said, looking up.

“Hermione,” Fred gave her an exasperated look. “I would say having your front teeth hexed is as good a reason to skive off classes as it gets.”

“I suppose I could go to the library and do a bit of reading before Viktor Krum and his fan club come in,” Hermione said, shaking her head in irritation at the thought.

She had grown increasingly annoyed that Krum seemed to constantly be in the library when she was there. She wouldn’t care but every time he came in, a gaggle of giggling 6th and 7th year girls was sure to follow. It was incredibly annoying and prevented Hermione from getting any work done. 

Fred covered his face with his hand, shaking his head. “Okay. It’s a pretty wild idea, but what about doing something other than schoolwork?”

“What would you suggest?” Hermione said expectantly, folding her arms over her chest.

“I actually have the perfect activity in mind,” Fred said, an expectant grin on his face.

*****************

“Um, are you sure about this, Fred?” Hermione asked a bit nervously.

“Positive. It’s been ages since you’ve seen any of the new products for the shop and we’ve been meaning to test this one out for a while now.” Fred grinned at her, spreading out cushions behind himself.

They stood in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, late afternoon sunlight peering in through the grimy windows. Myrtle was thankfully occupied elsewhere in the castle and the absence of her constant wailing was almost unsettling in the dreary space.

“This really is an impressive bit of magic, if it all works according to plan,” Hermione said, biting her lip. She flipped through the notes he had given her, searching for any mistake in them and finding none. She examined the sweet in front of her. It looked like a double-ended eraser, purple on one end, orange on the other.

“Well, let’s hope it does,” Fred said in a mock-serious voice, before rolling his eyes at her.

“It’ll be fine, Hermione. I’ll eat this end, and when I pass out, you’ll put the orange side in my mouth. When it dissolves, I’ll wake up, no problem.” Fred took the sweet from her and bit into the purple end before she could stop him.

“Fred, wai-,” Hermione began, lunging for the sweet, but Fred’s eyes were already rolling back in his head. He fell backward and hit the cushions with a comical thud.

Hermione gaped at him for a moment, stunned. The only sound that broke the silence was the steady drip of one of the taps in the center of the room. She shook her head and searched for the orange end of the sweet on the floor. She picked it up and moved to crouch next to Fred’s shoulder. She reached up a little nervously and prodded his cheek with her forefinger.

“Um, Fred?” She asked apprehensively. He didn’t respond in any noticeable way, but Hermione left out a sigh of relief when she saw that his chest was moving up and down. Nervously, she tucked her hair behind her ears and touched his mouth to open it. Hermione felt her cheeks going very pink, noting how soft his lips were. She felt his warm breath as she placed the orange end of the sweet in his mouth. She leaned over him, watching.

What if he choked on the sweet, Hermione thought in a panic. Why hadn’t she brought that up before he ate the purple end? Should she take it out of his mouth, she wondered frantically.

Just as she had decided to pull the sweet out of his mouth, Fred’s eyes began fluttering open, startling her.

“It worked!” Hermione smiled, her eyes wide with excitement.

Fred smiled back at her, seeming to take a moment to come around.

“Your teeth,” he said, sitting up.

Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth, panicked. “What about them? Is there something wrong with them?”

“No! No, they just look different. They’re smaller and straighter.” Fred shook his head to clear it and looked at her teeth closer.

“Oh, that.” Hermione smiled a bit mischievously. “Well, when Madam Pomfrey was shrinking my teeth, she said to stop her when they were the size they were before and I just…. let her carry on a bit.” She smiled a bit wider.

“Mum and Dad won’t be too pleased though. I’ve been trying to persuade them to let me shrink them for ages, but they wanted me to carry on with my braces. You know, they’re dentists, they just don’t think teeth and magic should mix. Anyway, I can’t believe the Fainting Fancies actually worked.”

“Yeah, guess it was an impressive bit of magic after all.” Fred grinned at her. “Good thing too, this was the first trial.”

“It’s okay, I would have left you here with Myrtle if you didn’t wake up,” Hermione said, getting to her feet. She smirked down at Fred, holding her hand out to him.

“As long as there was a plan,” Fred said, getting to his feet.

Hermione helped him pick up the cushions and placed them in the corner.

“So how long have you and George been using this bathroom to make products?” She asked him looking around at the littered sweet wrappers and the cauldron brewing in one of the stalls.

“Why? Need to brew more Polyjuice Potion in here?” He asked her with a smirk.

“I’ll admit, you lot gave us the idea. No one ever comes in here and if you can ignore Myrtle, it’s actually not so bad. We used it to brew the Aging Potion and have just started developing all our products here too.”

Hermione looked impressed. She opened her mouth to speak as the bell rang, signaling the end of classes.

Fred smiled widely at her. “So how does it feel, to skive off class for no other reason than just not wanting to go?”

“Like it won’t likely happen again,” Hermione said, smiling.

“Oh come on, this had to be more fun than listening to Snape drone on and trying to make Ron and Harry grow up. Or going to the library.” Fred shuddered. They left the bathroom and joined the throng of students making their way toward the Great Hall for dinner.

“Just a bit,” Hermione said, looking at her watch. “I should go though. I do want to get to the library now during dinner before Viktor Krum and his fan club arrive.”

“Barking mad,” Fred shook his head as he continued down the steps toward the entrance hall.

Hermione continued to the library and was pleased to find it empty. She hoped she could get an hour or so of peace before Krum showed up. She didn’t understand why he always seemed to be in the library. Even if he was there to study like she was, there was no way he could possibly concentrate with his band of giggling followers there. He must like having fans fawn over him. That must be why he got along with someone like Malfoy, she thought disgusted thinking about how Krum always sat near Malfoy at mealtimes.

She pulled out her Arithmancy notes and began reading, feeling herself getting lost in the work the way she always did. She always came to the library during mealtimes with the best of intentions, to do a bit of work then go down to eat. Every time though, she always got so absorbed in the work she lost track of time and worked right through the meal.

It had been about 30 minutes when a voice brought Hermione back to the present.

“There you are,” Ron said, throwing himself in the chair next to her. “I looked everywhere for you. Madam Pomfrey fixed your teeth, I see.”

Hermione smiled widely, wondering if Ron would notice her new smile as quickly as Fred had. “Yes, she shrank them in about a minute.”

Ron was glaring at the table though and didn’t seem to notice anything though. Hermione sighed.

“I assume Malfoy didn’t get in any trouble at all for it, and Snape took points from Harry?”

“That slimy git took fifty points! And we both got detention!” Ron said indignantly.

“Both of you? What did you get detention for? You didn’t do anything.” Hermione said, confused.

“After that crack he made to you, Harry and I started calling him as many names as we could think of.” Ron glared at the memory.

Hermione felt a surge of hope. “So you are both talking again? That’s wond-,” she began.

“No, of course we aren’t. The whole thing today was his fault!” Ron said harshly.

“Ron, Harry and Malfoy try to hex each other every other week. Something like this was bound to happen eventually.” Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

“I can’t believe you are still defending him, Hermione. You know, I honestly thought you might be on my side after what happened to you today.” Ron said in disbelief, sitting back in the chair.

Hermione put her head in her hands, frustrated. Looking up, she fixed Ron with a harsh glare.

“How much longer is this going to go on, Ron? How much longer are you planning to punish Harry for something we both know he didn’t do?”

“Something you think you know he didn’t do. I told you when he wants to admit he entered the tournament behind our backs and apologize for it, maybe I’ll forgive him.” Ron said, setting his jaw.

“So that’s it then. You’re ready to just throw out four years of friendship over petty jealousy.” Hermione said angrily. She gathered up her notes and began putting them back in her bag.

“Petty jealousy? Hermione, I already told you. It’s always him. It’s always him that everything happens to, and now? It’s gone to his head and he couldn’t resist just a bit more fame, so he entered the tournament. Why can everyone see that but you?”

Hermione got to her feet, disgusted with Ron’s words. She could feel hot patches forming on her cheeks as her anger rose to the surface.

“You know what, Ron? You’re so sure you understand everything so perfectly, but I wish there were a way to make you and Harry trade places for just one day. Maybe then, one of you would be able to grow up already and get over it.” Hermione fumed as she spun on her heel and stormed away from the table, leaving Ron sitting there. As she exited the library, she saw Krum walking down the corridor.

Hermione didn’t try to hide the scowl from her face as they passed each other. She looked at her watch. With a sigh, she noted that at least she would have time to have dinner after all this evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be the longest chapter yet! And as an added shock for you all, I don't have a huge note to add to the bottom. There's a lot building up between the fight, the First Task, Rita Skeeter's article, The House Elf Liberation Front and the beginnings of Krumione. I did say that this would be a mostly canon compliant fic and I won't be bringing Fred and Hermione together quite yet, but I can tell you Krumione won't be the focus. I have to admit though that it is another of my favorite non canon pairings for Hermione. He was such a sweet first boyfriend for Hermione and that's the role he will be playing in this fic too. Next chapter will have some more Fred POV and Rita's article will be coming out!
> 
> Every comment you guys make gives me a little extra spring in my step and makes me so happy! As always, thank you for taking the time to let me know what you think about the direction this story is going! Until next time! <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: As always, the Harry Potter/Wizarding Universe belongs to JKR. I just use it as my own creative playground.

Fred couldn’t remember ever enjoying a Hogsmeade trip less, he thought as he, George, Lee, and Ron pushed out of Zonko’s and into the main street of Hogsmeade. They had just finished doing their first round of “marketing research” and Fred thought that the entire debacle had been an enormous waste of time.

When Ron had come down to breakfast and asked to tag along with them, he’d looked so pathetic that Fred and George hadn’t had the hearts to take the mickey out of him. When they got to town, however, they had seen Hermione walking toward Honeydukes, apparently alone, and it had set Ron off.

“I should have known he’d wear the Cloak… acting like he doesn’t like all the attention.” Ron had muttered in an annoyed voice as they walked into Zonko’s.

That hadn’t been the end of it though. Through every aisle, he had a new complaint.

“What’s the matter, doesn’t want to get mobbed with fans?” Ron said in a sarcastic voice as Fred had been comparing a Zonko’s trick wands to one of his own.

“Has a lot of nerve, even coming to Hogsmeade after that article.” He’d said, interrupting a debate George and Lee had been having over the ingredients list on one of Zonko’s sweets.

“And what’s Hermione playing at, coming here with him? I should’ve known she’d choose him like she always does.” Ron scowled darkly as they finally left the shop, Lee pulling his hair in frustration as he walked ahead with Fred.

That had been the comment that had started to grate at Fred’s nerves. When Ron had mentioned Hermione, Fred was bitterly reminded of how he had asked her to go to Hogsmeade with him. How she’d said yes. How she had come to find him the previous day to tell him that she was sorry, but she wouldn’t be able to go to Hogsmeade with them after all. Fred had understood, even if he hadn’t been very happy about it. He had mostly been relieved she had found him alone, as he still hadn’t mentioned to George that he had invited her to come along.

“Let’s go into the Three Broomsticks for a drink, shall we?” Lee said in a loud voice, cutting Ron off before he could continue.

“Great idea,” George said, in the same sort of voice. Fred shook his head in exasperation but followed the three of them into the pub. It was packed with townspeople, teachers, and students all trying to get in from the cold. All around them, people were chattering excitedly about the upcoming first task of the Triwizard tournament. Ron scowled again and looked to be in danger of opening his mouth to complain again.

“Ah, there’s a table. Just freed up over there, come on Ron. You lads will get the butterbeers?” George said, not waiting for an answer before throwing his arm over Ron’s shoulders and towing him away. They edged their way through the crowd and sat down at a table near the center of the pub that had just been vacated.

As they made their way to the bar, Lee muttered to Fred, “Proper ray of sunshine, he is.”

“You’re not kidding. I might jinx him for the fun of it if he doesn’t let up soon.” Fred said. They reached the bar and ordered four butterbeers.

As Rosmerta began passing the drinks over to them, Lee laughed and said, “Nah, just wait. You said the Canary Creams are ready to be tested, right?”

“Right you are,” Fred laughed appreciatively as they made their way back. They sat down and began passing drinks around.

George leaned in and said, “We need to talk about funds. Fred and I still have most of our money tied up, in a few, er, projects, so we’re running dangerously low on gold. What we really need is to start getting a steady stream of Galleons coming in so we can keep making products for the shop.”

“Well seeing as there’s no Quidditch to commentate this year, I’m tapped out too,” Lee said, leaning back as he took a swig of his butterbeer.

“The trick wands are ready to sell, but we need to finish more of the sweets to really start making gold and getting the word out,” Fred said, raking a hand through his hair as he thought.

“Have you two thought any more about taking bets on the Tournament?” Lee asked. Fred looked up and exchanged a look with George. They had thought about it extensively. It seemed like the fastest way to make some quick money, but they had both firmly agreed that they refused to behave like Bagman, placing bets without the gold to back them up. They had begun to suspect that the reason Bagman had been refusing to answer their letters was that he didn’t have any gold to pay them.

“With what gold, Lee? We just said we’re out of money.” Fred said, rolling his eyes.

“Where’s all the money you two got from Ludo Bagman over the summer?” Ron asked curiously.

“Clean your ears out, Ron. I just told you, it's tied up at the moment.” George said, glaring at him.

“Only thing we can do then is start selling the ready merchandise, and hope it makes us enough to start making a profit. Reckon we could sell a few at the first task?” Fred asked, trying to change the subject. This, however, was the wrong topic to bring up, as Hermione had just pressed through the crowd with two butterbeers in hand. Fred let out a breath, thinking for a moment that Ron hadn’t seen her until,

“You know, you probably could take bets on the Tournament even without gold. Just ask him to throw a task or something. Probably wouldn’t care as long as someone’s around to write an article about it.”

Ron nodded over Fred’s shoulder to where Hermione was now sitting at a table in the corner, before continuing, “He’s over there under the cloak, you know? Just saw Hermione hand him a butterbeer.”

Fred turned around and saw that while Hermione had walked by with two butterbeers, there was only one on the table in front of her. He turned back around, but not before seeing Hermione turn to glare at the space next to her in an annoyed way and lean in to hiss something to the chair.

“Ron, just curious, how much longer are you planning to keep this up? Another month? Another 6 months?” George said, annoyed. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as though he had a headache.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Ron said, his neck going a bit red as he glared at his butterbeer.

“He means, how much longer are you and Harry going to glare at each other from opposite ends of the Common Room not talking to each other?” Fred said, rolling his eyes.

“How is that any of your business?” Ron said, angrily. “Besides, this whole thing is his fault! He knows where to come find me when he’s ready to admit it.”

“Is this really still about the Triwizard Tournament, Ron? Because even you can’t possibly be that thick.” George said, taking a drink.

“If we couldn’t figure out how to enter, there’s no way Harry could have.” Fred said, dismissively before continuing, “And actually, it kind of is our business when Ginny has been in a state worrying about what’s going to happen to Harry if you two don’t make up and we have to deal with it.”

“Well it’s not any of Ginny’s bu-, wh-, what is that supposed to mean?” Ron spluttered angrily.

“Ginny brought up a good point actually. So Ron, what exactly are you planning to tell Mum when she asks why Harry isn’t invited to come to ours this summer?” George said, folding his arms over his chest.

“I never said he couldn’t stay with us this summer,” Ron muttered to his tankard.

“Bit of an awkward holiday that’ll be, considering the two of you can’t stand to be around each other. So again, where’s he going to go?” Fred said, flatly.

“Since when is it my responsibility to take in every stray at Hogwarts, huh?” Ron said angrily, his ears turning bright red.

“Besides, you all read that article Rita Skeeter wrote. Maybe he can just go be Hermione’s problem since they’re so close,” he continued sarcastically, jerking his head to gesture to Hermione’s table again.

Fred’s stomach lurched uncomfortably at the mention of the article again. He knew it was a load of waffle and he had enjoyed teasing Harry about it every time he and George had seen him, but the parts about Harry and Hermione always being seen together because they were dating had been harder to brush aside. The rational part of him knew Rita Skeeter wrote nothing but a load of lies. The not so rational part, on the other hand, the part of him that felt like he had swallowed a rather large rock every time he thought about the article, wanted to throw something very large and breakable every time it was mentioned.

Lee’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but George narrowed his and said in a serious voice, “You know where he would end up staying, Ron.”

Ron had the decency to at least look uncomfortable and looked away. Fred saw his eyes drift over to the table behind them and he shifted in his seat awkwardly. Fred wondered if Ron was remembering the way Harry's aunt and uncle scowled at him like he was something unpleasant they had trodden in every time they picked him up from King's Cross at the end of term, or perhaps the bars they'd had to pull off his bedroom window two summers ago to rescue Harry when he had been starved and confined like a prisoner in his own house. Fred glanced behind himself to see that Hermione and Harry had been joined by Hagrid and Professor Moody. It was an odd set of drinking companions, Fred mused before turning his attention back to Ron, Lee, and George.

“Look Ron, article or not, the first task is in a few days, and Harry has to go up in front of the whole school competing against Viktor Krum of all people. Right now, Hermione is one of the only people who isn’t rooting for him to completely fail, and let’s be honest he probably will. Maybe it’s time to be the bigger man,” Lee said, breaking his silence. Fred raised his eyebrows, impressed by Lee's calm logic.

Ron bit the side of his mouth and furrowed his brow. “I never said I was rooting for him to fail.” He trailed off, hesitantly.

George leaned back and made a skeptical noise in the back of his throat. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.” It was the wrong thing to say. Ron’s eyes narrowed and his ears turned red again.

“Yeah? Well, you know what he has a funny way of showing?” But what Harry had a funny way of showing, they would never find out. Fred had had more than enough.

“Oh for the love of Merlin’s most baggy y-fronts,” Fred said, slamming his butterbeer on the table. The sudden motion caused the liquid to fizz up and out of the bottle and over the table, but no one paid it any attention. George and Lee roared with laughter while Ron looked at Fred in alarm at the sudden outburst.

“You know what Ron? Either go kiss and makeup already or do us all a favor and shut up about it. We’re all tired of hearing about it.”

George made a wheezing noise of agreement through his laughter. Lee wiped tears from his eyes, nodding. Ron made no noise, but opened his mouth and closed it a few times like a fish out of water. Annoyed, Fred stood from the table. Ron had ruined the first Hogsmeade trip of the year completely, and Fred didn’t think he could stand to be around him for another moment.

Outside of the Three Broomsticks though, Fred felt a bit embarrassed about his outburst. The brisk cold calmed his anger, but he had no interest in going back in to listen to Ron anymore. Shoving his hands in his pockets and trudging down the street, he began peering in shop windows for something, anything to distract himself. Finally at Scrivenshaft’s, a glossy display for a self-inking quill caught his eye. He showed more interest than he ordinarily would in it, bending over to read the sign in front of it carefully.

‘Are you plagued with ink spills and spots all over your best parchment? Do you constantly dread finishing your essays and letters because of all the messy cleanup? Save yourself the trouble of hours of cleanup spell work with our new self-inking quills! Available in Eagle and Raven feather. Writing desk not included.’

Fred looked up, shaking his head in amusement. It was the kind of ridiculous thing he imagined Hermione would be interested in. He noticed movement in the reflection behind him and saw that he was no longer alone. He turned to face George, who started laughing again as soon as Fred looked at him.

“You shouldn’t bottle up all that anger, you know. Much healthier to let it out. But I have to say, ‘Merlin’s most baggy y-fronts?’”

George had to stop for a moment to laugh again before he continued, “You should lose it and yell at Ron more often. I think Lee almost wet himself laughing.”

Fred grinned, despite himself. He looked around. Lee and Ron were nowhere to be seen.

“Speaking of, where are Lee and Ron?” He asked, an eyebrow raised.

“We ditched Ron with Neville, Dean, and Seamus and Lee’s still at the Three Broomsticks since Angelina, Katie and Alicia stopped in. Suppose he’s trying to salvage the rest of the trip too.” George said as they turned to start walking back the way Fred had come.

“Yeah, not exactly how I wanted to spend the first Hogsmeade trip of the year. I had better things planned to do today than listen to Ron complain for four hours.” Fred said.

"You mean, like go to Hogsmeade with Hermione?” George asked with a smirk.

Fred stopped walking. “How did you know about that?”

“Funny thing,” George said in an innocent tone. “Came to apologize to me yesterday after she talked to you. Said she was sorry she couldn’t help us with our marketing research. Imagine my surprise, since I’d had no idea we even asked her to.” George said, innocently.

Fred didn’t say anything, his ears burning.

“That is unless you weren’t planning on having us come along. Can’t imagine why, unless...” George trailed off, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fred said roughly, starting to walk again.

“I think you do, Freddie. I mean, all those private chats, Hermione’s help with the shop, asking her to come with you to Hogsmeade.” George caught up with him and grinned. “You know, that'll probably push Ron right over the edge too, so I approve.”

Fred rolled his eyes and turned abruptly down a side street to get away from George. He jogged to catch up to Fred, calling after him,

“Next time, you should probably make sure she knows it’s a date though, so you don’t have to bring Lee and me along. I am the more handsome of us both, so not really fair to you to have me along.”

“No one said anything about there even being a next time, and it wasn’t a date,” Fred muttered.

“Yeah, and I’m a hippogriff,” George said, grinning. “So when are you planning to ask her again.”

“Maybe the day after you decide to man up and ask Angelina out,” Fred said, looking over to George who had a look on his face rather like he’d had when he had added too much flaxseed to the Canary Creams and the entire cauldron had blown up in his face.

“Now, can we talk about something else?” Fred said, smirking.

“Okay, okay, fair enough,” George said with a grin. “Should we go back to Zonko’s and try to do our market research again, since Ron isn’t here to muck it up this time?”

“May as well,” Fred said as they turned to face the street Zonko’s was on. “I forgot to get more fireworks the last time we were in there.”

“I thought we were almost out of gold,” George said, raising an eyebrow.

“Georgie, there’s always enough gold for fireworks,” Fred said, grinning as they entered the shop.

***************

“Ron, I’m really not in the mood to listen to you complain about Harry right now, so if that’s all you came over here to do, go away.” Fred heard Hermione snap from across the Common Room. Ron leaned in to say something to Hermione in a low voice. She glared back at him before replying in a quiet voice.

George nodded over to them and said with a smirk, “Hermione’s getting just as fed up with Ron as you are.”

Fred glanced across the almost empty Common Room in time to see Ron push away from the table and storm over to the boy’s staircase. He gave Hermione a last scathing look and went up the stairs and out of sight.

George looked up from the stack of notes and stretched his arms over his head. Their second trip to Zonko’s had put them in high spirits. They had gotten a lot of good information and were confident that if they could just get enough gold to start making them, their products would be like nothing the students of Hogwarts had ever seen.

“Well, I’m bushed. Think I’ll head to bed,” George said, looking at his watch. “Blimey, it’s after midnight.”

He got to his feet, grabbing their notes before looking over to Fred who was still sitting in his armchair. “You coming?”

“In a minute,” Fred said, in what he hoped casual voice.

George looked over to where Hermione was reading a large book at a table across the Common Room.

“Hope it’s a productive minute,” he said with a knowing grin.

Fred felt the back of his neck burning as he got to his feet too. “Shut it, George.”

“Empty common room, you two can bond over insulting Ron...,” George said wistfully.

“Angelina,” Fred said in a warning tone.

“Okay, okay.” George held his hands up in surrender and bid him good night.

Fred made his way over to the table where Hermione sat reading.

“I told you where to go and how to get there, Ron. Do you need a map too?” Hermione said in a snappish voice, not looking up.

Laughing, Fred said, “Only if you think it would help.”

He sat down across from her but was a little surprised to see that when she looked up her face didn’t soften much. She still looked incredibly tense and nervous.

“Oh it’s you, Fred,” Hermione said.

“Well, hello to you too, I suppose,” Fred said with a dry laugh.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that I was unhappy to see you. I just, I’m waiting for-, he should’ve been back by now.” Hermione checked her watch and began tapping her pen on the table. She reached down and touched something next to her.

“Uh, Hermione, is everything alright?” Fred said, in a concerned voice.

“What? Of course, it is.” She said, looking at her watch again. Fred looked at his own hesitantly and saw that it was a quarter after midnight.

“Um, are you waiting for something? For Harry?”

“What? Oh, I expect he’ll be back any second.” Hermione continued to fidget with the pen in her hand. She looked over to the fire and the tapping increased.

“Then can I ask why you look like you’re waiting for a bomb to go off? I’m all for explosions, but twelve o'clock in the morning in an empty common room seems a bit like a wasted effort to me.” Fred said, in a rambling voice. He didn’t think Hermione had even heard him for a moment. She didn’t take her eyes away from the fireplace where the last few flames were slowly fading.

Then, in a dreamy voice, she said, “Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies, Fred.”

“What?” Fred asked, confused.

“Never mind,” Hermione said, shaking her head as though to clear it. “How did your marketing research go?”

Fred blinked, taken aback by the sudden change in subject. “Er, it went well. We got some really good information.”

Hermione was looking at the fire again. “That’s too bad. Next time will be better,” she said absently.

Fred leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow, “Then we blew the building up to get rid of the competition completely.”

“That sounds really-,” Hermione began in the same distracted voice before finally seeming to hear what Fred was saying. Her head snapped away from the fire and she finally looked at him.

“Wait, what?” She asked, alarmed.

“Okay Hermione, what’s going on? You can tell me the truth, you know.” Fred said, folding his arms over his chest.

Hermione laughed once, drily. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” She looked at her watch again. 

“Try me,” Fred said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Look, Fred, I don’t want to talk to anyone right now, okay? So would you just please leave?” Hermione snapped, tilting her head back and closing her eyes, 

Fred blinked once in surprise. Then he shook his head and laughed drily before getting to his feet and walking toward the staircase. “Yeah, sorry to bother you. I’ll just leave you to it then.” 

She didn’t say anything to stop him and Fred looked back at her before going up the stairs. Hermione was still watching the fire, tapping the pen on the table. She looked up suddenly and their eyes met for a second. Hermione dropped her gaze immediately and looked back to the fire, biting her lip. Shaking his head in frustration, Fred turned and went up the stairs. 

As he got ready for bed, he was glad that George seemed to have already fallen asleep. He didn’t feel like talking about the conversation he’d just had with Hermione. Laying back in his four-poster bed, Fred went over it again in his head. Whatever the real story was, it bothered him that she didn’t seem to trust him with it, Fred thought with a sigh before rolling over to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm scum! I'm the worst! It's been so long since I've updated, but I can promise you guys that it is not for a lack of thinking about this story every single day. I promise I will try my hardest to never go this long without an update again unless there's a REALLY good reason!
> 
> There are two reasons it took me so long to get this chapter written. The first is that I got the idea for Fred and George to try and give Ron a "Come to Jesus" moment on the Hogsmeade weekend before the first task from the same fic I used for inspiration for Ron and Hermione's breakfast conversation, Envy by FloreatCastellum (Seriously, give it a read if you get a chance!). I've been agonizing over trying to make my idea NOT just a rewrite of their idea, but I've had this entire conversation written out in my head and it has refused to go away. One of the biggest pieces of writing advice I have ever been given is that there is no such thing as an original idea, so stop making that your excuse not to write. So, I finally decided to give my own spin on a really great idea and plug their story since its the OG inspiration. (Please don't @ me, imitation is the highest form of flattery, right? D: Right?)
> 
> The other reason is that I have been super ill for the last two weeks with the flu. Like honest to goodness, ended up in the ER, strapped to an IV, lost almost 10 pounds, influenza. It was THE worst. I got my flu shot and still managed to get sick. It's been awful, but I'm finally bouncing back and sanitizing every surface around me with bleach and disinfectant like a fiend.
> 
> As I said, I can promise it won't be another month (holy moly, I still can't believe it took me a month to update), because most of Chapter 15 is already written, but I hope the wait was worth it! This chapter was really fun to write once I finally got over myself, even if it did end on a sad note. ;( Did you like my nod to Ron's future one-liner about Merlin's undergarments (you didn't think Ron came up with that one on his own, did you? XD). 
> 
> The next chapter will be the first task and our boys will finally be reunited! And about time too! I can't bear much more mean Ron! Please let me know what you guys thought of this latest chapter and seriously, props if you're still reading my rambling notes! 
> 
> Until next time!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I do not own Harry Potter or the Wizarding World. I just come here to fix history (by keeping Fred alive). :D
> 
> This chapter contains direct text from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

“I don’t know Ginny, wouldn’t it just be easier to ask them to borrow one of their brooms?” Hermione said, taking a bite of her porridge.

“Afraid not,” Ginny said, through a large gulp of orange juice. Her hair was windswept and her cheeks pink from the cold.

She’d just finished telling Hermione that she had come from the Quidditch pitch. Ginny had been getting up before dawn three to four days a week to go out to the Quidditch pitch to practice. She had confided in Hermione on the last day of summer, that she had been borrowing Fred and George’s brooms, in turn, to do this for a little over a year.

Ginny swallowed a bite of bacon and continued, “They’d never let me, just like none of them ever let me play with them when we’re on holiday.

“You see,” she said, through a mouthful of fried egg, “to them I’m still 6 years old and if they let me use their broomsticks to play Quidditch, then they have to acknowledge that I’ve grown up and can do everything they can. No, if I’m going to make the team when Angelina and Alicia leave, I have to get all the practice I can. However I can.”

“Aren’t there school brooms you could borrow?” Hermione asked, thinking back on the flying lessons she had gotten first year.

Ginny raised an eyebrow and she shook her head, laughing, “Hermione, those things are so old, I could probably walk faster. No, Fred and George have the best brooms aside from Harry. As long as I’m careful, they’ve never noticed before.”

“Well, you could always ask Harry to borrow his broom,” Hermione said, innocently, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice.

Ginny’s cheeks went scarlet.

“Um, no. I don’t think I could,” she said, quickly.

“Ginny, I can’t believe that still, after all this time, you still can’t say a single word to him,” Hermione said, sternly.

“I know, but every time I try to think of anything to say around him, it sounds so incredibly ridiculous. I just wish I could say something, anything, around him. I talk to other boys, no problem.” Ginny put her head in her hands, miserably.

“In fact,” she continued, “do you know that Michael Corner asked me to go to Hogsmeade just this past weekend? But I said I was going with friends because how could I say yes to someone else when it’s Harry I would rather be going with?”

“Well,” Hermione said, hesitantly. “Maybe you should.”

“What?” Ginny asked, looking up.

“I mean this in the kindest way possible, Ginny, but maybe it’s time you got on with things and stopped worrying about Harry.” Hermione bit her lip, trying to think of how to word what she was trying to say without upsetting Ginny.

“Maybe you should say yes next time and actually go out with some other boys, relax a bit and let Harry get to know the real you. I can tell you, she’s someone worth getting to know.” Hermione said kindly, with a smile of encouragement.

Ginny was quiet for a moment as she thought, twirling a strand of her long red hair that had come out of her braid.

She let out a great sigh and said, “I suppose you might be right. After all, three years of knowing him and I don’t think I’ve ever had a real conversation with him.”

Ginny looked miserable, putting her hands on her chin morosely. Hermione looked up and saw that Harry had just come to the Great Hall. Hermione waved at him and leaned in toward Ginny.

“Well you’re about to have another chance now,” Hermione said in a fast whisper, before calling out, “Good morning Harry!”

Ginny’s eyes went wide in alarm and she bent her head over her plate, playing with a bit of the bacon left with her fork.

Harry sat down on the other side of Hermione but didn’t take a plate.

“Hello Hermione, Ginny,” he said, looking very grave. He sat down at the table, his hands balled in fists on his lap. Hermione and Ginny exchanged a glance when he didn’t say anymore.

“Are you okay, Harry?” Ginny asked, in a hesitant voice.

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again. He looked rather pale and like he might be ill.

“Um, is it..,” Hermione trailed off, giving him a significant look.

Harry nodded.

Hermione let out a breath. Ginny raised an eyebrow at Hermione, but she pretended not to notice. Instead, she began taking large bites of her porridge, finishing the bowl off in a few moments and then she drained her goblet of orange juice.

“We’ll see you, Ginny!” Hermione said, in a falsely cheery voice as she stood from the table and let Harry take her by the arm and tow her out of the Great Hall. As they left, she saw Ron sitting with Fred, George, and Lee. His eyes met hers for a moment before he looked away with a sour expression on his face.

Harry and Hermione pushed through the front doors of the Entrance Hall and began walking down the same path they had taken the morning after he had been named a school champion. Hermione waited for Harry to begin speaking but just like in the Great Hall, he seemed to be unable to speak.

“So, what did Hagrid want? When I finally went to bed, it was after 12:30 and you still weren’t back.” Hermione finally asked.

Harry stopped walking. They had reached the section in front of the lake where they had talked before. He opened his mouth to speak and then shook his head.

“Was it about the Tournament?”

He nodded.

“Was it about the first task?”

He nodded again.

Harry swallowed and then said in a hopeless voice, “It’s dragons. The first task is dragons.”

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face and she began to wish she hadn’t eaten the rest of her breakfast so quickly.

“Harry, no. No, there’s got to be a mistake. They can’t expect students to get past a, a dragon. There’s no way!” Hermione could hear the pleading tone in her voice, begging him to tell her it was a joke.

Harry shook his head, his teeth still clenched together.

He said in a resigned voice, “I saw them myself. There are four of them, one for each of us. And I’m a goner, Hermione. Sirius said there was a simple spell to get past a dragon but he had to go before he could tell me.”

“Go? Why? Were you were interrupted? By who?” Hermione’s mind raced with panic. Had Sirius been sighted? Did they have yet another problem to deal with?

“Ron. He came down to the Common Room and Sirius left so he wouldn’t be caught. He should have told me how to get past the dragon first, then the business with Karkaroff. Then at least I would have a chance on Tuesday.” Harry raked both hands through his hair, his eyes wild with panic. Hermione shook her head though, confused.

“Karkaroff? What about him?”

They started to walk again, as Hermione was too nervous to stay in one spot. Harry told Hermione all that Sirius had told him about Karkaroff and Bertha Jorkins.

“…and then I heard Ron coming down the stairs and I told Sirius to go. I’ve been up all night trying to figure it out, but I have no idea what simple spell he was talking about that can get past a dragon.” Harry said, beginning to panic again.

Hermione chewed on the inside of her cheek again, lost in thought. Sirius had certainly given them a lot to consider but she thought their primary task should be figuring out how to get past the dragon.

“Let’s just try and keep you alive until Tuesday evening,” she said desperately, “and then we can worry about Karkaroff.”

They spent a long while more walking, trying to think of any useful spell that could be used on a dragon, but none seemed promising. Finally, Hermione suggested that they retire to the library to broaden their search.

************

Just as when Hermione had been researching the history of House Elf Enslavement, she was bitterly disappointed when their efforts turned up with absolutely no good ideas.

“ ‘Talon-clipping by charms . . . treating scale-rot . . .’ This is no good, this is for nutters like Hagrid who want to keep them healthy. . . .” Harry said, in an annoyed voice a few hours into the search.

“ ‘Dragons are extremely difficult to slay, owing to the ancient magic that imbues their thick hides, which none but the most powerful spells can penetrate . . .’ But Sirius said a simple one would do it. . . .,” Hermione said, frustrated.

“Let’s try some simple spellbooks, then,” said Harry, throwing aside Men Who Love Dragons Too Much.

He returned to the table with a pile of spell books, set them down, and began to flick through each in turn.

Hermione began flipping through The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 3, making idle comments.

“Well, there are Switching Spells . . . but what’s the point of Switching it? Unless you swapped its fangs for wine-gums or something that would make it less dangerous. . . . The trouble is, like that book said, not much is going to get through a dragon’s hide. . . .I’d say Transfigure it, but something that big, you really haven’t got a hope, I doubt even Professor McGonagall . . . unless you’re supposed to put the spell on yourself? Maybe to give yourself extra powers? But they’re not simple spells, I mean, we haven’t done any of those in class, I only know about them because I’ve been doing O.W.L. practice papers. . . .”

“Hermione,” Harry said, through gritted teeth, “will you shut up for a bit, please? I’m trying to concentrate.”

Hermione fell silent, but even with both of them, they didn’t find a single promising spell. After another hour or so, Hermione saw a familiar figure slouch into the library. She groaned and rolled her eyes when Viktor Krum looked over at their table before settling in a far corner of the library.

“Oh no, he’s back again, why can’t he read on his stupid ship?” said Hermione irritably, beginning to gather up the books to take to the common room.

She and Harry grabbed as many books as they could hold before heading back up to the Common Room. They stayed up, well into the early morning hours looking for something, anything. The later it got, the more desperate their efforts became. It was only when Hermione’s elbow slipped off the table at four in the morning after nodding off for the third time, that Harry finally suggested they call it a night. Hermione tossed and turned the whole night through. Every time she began to relax, she felt her stomach lurch in dread at the thought of Tuesday’s quickening approach.

Hermione woke early on Monday morning, considering how little sleep they had gotten the night before. When she came down the girl’s staircase, she saw that Harry was already up. He looked at Hermione a bit calmer than the night before, but not by much. Hermione suggested that they head down for breakfast, but on the walk down to the Great Hall, they didn’t speak and when they sat down at the end of the table, neither of them spoke.

Hermione didn’t bother trying to coax Harry to eat, in fact, she didn’t have much appetite herself. She looked around the Great Hall, not really taking in any of her surroundings. The entire hall was buzzing with people talking about the first task. Hermione could feel the panic starting to rise again, so when Harry suggested in a wooden voice that they should probably head to the greenhouses, she felt relieved to abandon her untouched plate.

They rose to their feet and began walking toward the front doors when Harry hesitated. Hermione turned around to see that he seemed to be trying to make a decision. Then, he spoke.

“Hermione, I’ll see you in the greenhouses,” Harry said, “Go on, I’ll catch you up.”

Hermione looked at her watch nervously. The bell for morning lessons to begin was going to ring in less than three minutes. “Harry, you’ll be late, the bell’s about to ring —”

“I’ll catch you up, okay?” He said, urgently before walking toward the staircase.

Hermione continued on to Herbology. When she got to the greenhouse, Hermione sat at their usual table near the door. She kept glancing out to the grounds, wondering where Harry was and whether he was on his way back yet. She was on the point of pulling out one of the spellbooks they hadn’t gotten around to the night before to start looking for spells again when Ron's voice came from over her shoulder. 

“What’s up with you?”

Hermione looked over to find Ron standing at the edge of the desk, one eyebrow raised. He had placed his bag on the table and looked a bit hesitant about being there at all.

“Hmm, oh, morning Ron!” Hermione, said in a falsely cheery voice, ignoring the question. In fact, she was pleased to see that Ron wanted to work at their table for the first time in weeks. It was the first olive branch either he or Harry had extended since Halloween. “Here, have a seat.”

She took the opportunity to look away from Ron as she pulled her bag off the seat to offer him, but he didn’t sit down.

“Hermione, you’re acting the way you do the day of exams. What’s wrong?” said Ron, looking concerned, not moving.

“It’s, its nothing,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “I’m fine.” Ron followed her gaze back to the greenhouse door though and his jaw tightened.

Ron’s voice was harsh as he said, “Oh, now you’re both keeping secrets from me? Is that it?”

“Ron,” Hermione said, turning back to face him. “Nobody is trying to keep secrets from you, but it’s Harry’s business. Maybe if you just talked to-,”

“Oh, that’s right? It’s all on me, is it? You two can just leave me out of everything, that’s it? Well I suppose you’ll let me know when you decide-,” Ron interjected angrily, but Hermione had lost her patience.

“Not this again! You know Ron, hard as it might be for you to understand, not everything in the universe revolves around you. I don’t know why you even bothered to come over here in the first place if you were just going to start another argument.” Hermione interrupted in a scathing tone.

“Obviously it was a mistake,” Ron said, grabbing his bag.

Hermione put her bag back on the seat and turned in her chair to face the other side of the room. That was when she noticed just how quiet the greenhouse had gotten. Every eye was on her and Ron. Ernie McMillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley cleared their throats uncomfortably and resumed their conversation in loud voices. Lavender and Parvati giggled and began whispering to each other, and conversations began to awkwardly break out around the greenhouse again.

Hermione turned to face the front of the room and looked down at her textbook. Ron meanwhile, had stormed over to the other side of the room to work with Dean and Seamus at their table. He refused to meet her eye and Hermione was relieved when a moment later, Professor Sprout came into the greenhouse, guiding a cart of Flutterby bushes to the center of the room on a cart.

“Morning, chaps,” she said, clapping her hands together in anticipation.

“Today’s lesson is going to be a practical one. Today you’ll be pruning these Flutterby Bushes before they can be used on the grounds. It may seem like a simple task, but it’s a task that you must take care when doing. Trim too much and it stunts the bush’s ability to flutter. Too little and the bush will take flight right from the ground. You may reference pages 120-122 of the text for more guidance and I will be coming through to check your progress. You may begin.”

Hermione selected a bush and shears along with the rest of the class, glancing at the door. She was beginning to feel very nervous now. Where was Harry? What was keeping him? Hermione began pruning the bush, trying to empty her mind from everything but spells she and Harry hadn’t thought of yet. She was so focused that ten minutes later, she almost missed Harry run into the greenhouse, breathlessly apologizing to Professor Sprout.

He rushed right up to her and whispered to her, “Hermione. Hermione, I need you to help me.”

“What d’you think I’ve been trying to do, Harry?” she whispered back, her eyes round with anxiety and a little annoyed.

“Hermione, I need to learn how to do a Summoning Charm properly by tomorrow afternoon,” said Harry.

Hermione’s jaw dropped open and her eyes widened as he explained. It was brilliant really, and simple too. She couldn’t believe they hadn’t thought of it yet. She caught Ron’s eye from across the room. He glared and looked back at his own Flutterby Bush, taking a particularly large chunk off when he snapped his shears closed.

“Weasley, that’s far too much! Pay attention.” Professor Sprout called out.

Ron went red and muttered an apology, turning back to his work.

Harry and Hermione spent much of the rest of the lesson watching the clock and as soon as the bell rang, Harry took Hermione by the hand and pulled her out of the greenhouse.

****************

And so they practiced. They didn’t have lunch but headed for a free classroom, where Harry tried with all his might to make various objects fly across the room toward him. He was still having problems, however. The books and quills kept losing heart halfway across the room and dropping like stones to the floor.

“Concentrate, Harry, concentrate. . . .” Hermione said sternly.

“What d’you think I’m trying to do?” said Harry angrily. “A great big dragon keeps popping up in my head for some reason. . . .”

He shook his head and raised his wand again.

"Okay, try again. . . .”

Harry wanted to skip Divination to keep practicing, but Hermione refused point-blank to skive off Arithmancy. She had an exam that day and besides, Hermione thought, taking a break was probably a good idea.

After afternoon lessons, Hermione and Harry forced down some dinner then returned to the empty classroom, using the Invisibility Cloak to avoid the teachers. They kept practicing until past midnight. They would have stayed longer, but Peeves turned up and, pretending to think that Harry wanted things thrown at him, started chucking chairs across the room. Harry and Hermione left in a hurry before the noise attracted Filch, and went back to the Gryffindor common room, which was now mercifully empty.

At two o’clock in the morning, Harry stood near the fireplace, surrounded by heaps of objects: books, quills, several upturned chairs, an old set of Gobstones, and Neville’s toad, Trevor. Only in the last hour had Harry really got the hang of the Summoning Charm.

“That’s better, Harry, that’s loads better,” Hermione said, looking exhausted but very pleased.

“Well, now we know what to do next time I can’t manage a spell,” Harry said, throwing a rune dictionary back to Hermione, so he could try again, “threaten me with a dragon. Right . . .”

He raised his wand once more. “Accio Dictionary!”

The heavy book soared out of Hermione’s hand, flew across the room, and Harry caught it.

“Harry, I really think you’ve got it!” said Hermione delightedly. She felt giddy with relief and exhaustion.

“Just as long as it works tomorrow,” Harry said. “The Firebolt’s going to be much farther away than the stuff in here, it’s going to be in the castle, and I’m going to be out there on the grounds. . . .”

“That doesn’t matter,” said Hermione firmly. “Just as long as you’re concentrating really, really hard on it, it’ll come.” Hermione refused to think about the idea of the spell not working. It would work. It had to work.

“Harry, we’d better get some sleep . . . you’re going to need it,” she said firmly to change the subject.

Hermione began helping Harry pick up a few of the items that had become scattered around the Common Room. She grabbed a chair and pulled it upright. As she turned to start stacking some books though, Harry’s voice made her pause to look up.

“Er, Hermione?”

“Yes?”

Harry looked a bit uncomfortable, and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I don’t know how I would’ve…, er, I mean to say, thanks. I couldn’t have figured all this out without you.”

Hermione felt taken aback with a surge of emotion. She smiled at him and said simply, “You’re going to be brilliant tomorrow.”

They put the rest of the room back in order in silence, before bidding each other good night.

Hermione got ready for bed quickly when she reached her dormitory and feeling more relieved than she had in days, fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooof, well never say never, am I right? It's been.....many days since I've been able to post, but I did say unless its a good reason. Does the whole world going totally bonkers crazytown right now count as a good reason? XD I do hope that everyone is staying safe, at home and washing their hands as much as possible. It really sucks but at least we have fan fic, Animal Crossing and Final Fantasy 7 to ease the pain. 
> 
> I know I said that the next chapter would be the Triwizard Tournament but, surprise surprise, the chapter was getting waaaaaay too long. But Chapter 16 is completely written and will be up within the week. 
> 
> I did want to mention one noteworthy change from here on out in the fic (that I will also be going back to edit in previously posted chapters). I got some constructive feedback that the big chunks of text directly from GOF are pretty distracting. First of all, I love constructive feedback once I eat a pint of ice cream and stop crying, that is. JK, JK. Seriously though, I actually do like it. You can't become better at any skill without it, so please do feel free to tell me when you think I'm just really missing the mark. :)
> 
> What I decided, is to just start notating the chapters with direct text in them in the beginning notes, rather italicizing the words throughout the chapter. I'm also planning to start going through the posted chapters to change them to a standard universal font and go through them and see what direct text can be taken out. 
> 
> That being said, weaving a story within the existing story organically is very important to me. A lot of the scenes I write in the 4th book are scenes from the existing story from the perspective of someone else. I will try to be less liberal with the direct text though. 
> 
> As always, your comments and kudos really do mean a lot to me. :) Please stay safe during these crazy times, stay at home, social distance, wash your hands. Eat your vegetables, take your vitamins, wear sunscreen, etc. 
> 
> -Until next time


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I do not own any part of the Harry Potter Universe. 
> 
> This chapter contains direct text from HP & the GOF

The next morning, however, Hermione woke with a pit in her stomach. They had spent so much time focusing on practicing and mastering the Summoning Charm, she had almost forgotten to be nervous about the task itself. When Harry met her in the Common Room, he looked ashen and grey. They ignored the Gryffindors in the Common Room who cheered when Harry came down the staircase, as well as the ones who applauded when he sat down in the Great Hall for breakfast. They sat down opposite Ginny at the end of the table but like the previous morning, Harry didn’t speak or eat. In fact, he looked rather like he might never eat again. He just nodded stiffly when Ginny said good morning and good luck. 

Hermione couldn’t blame him. Looking around the Great Hall at the other Champions, she could see that Cedric too looked pale and was absently picking at an untouched plate. Fleur looked more irritable and haughty than usual, tossing her hair over her shoulder and finding more things than usual to criticize. 

Krum was the only one who looked largely unaffected. His face was arranged in its usual scowl. Hermione supposed that after years of professional Quidditch, he was used to the pressure. He was however completely ignoring Malfoy's attempts to draw him into a conversation. After a few failed attempts Malfoy turned away, a sulky expression on his face. Hermione smirked in satisfaction at the exact moment Krum looked up from the table. His eyes locked onto Hermione’s and they looked at each other for a split second.

Hermione looked away first, turning her attention back to the conversations around her with a little more gusto than before. Hermione could feel his eyes still on her, but when she chanced a glance back over to the Slytherin table he had already looked away. Hermione could tell that his face had lost some of its scowl and it made him look much more approachable and friendly. She shifted in her seat uncomfortably and checked her watch. With a jolt of alarm, she realized that it was five minutes before lessons began. Saying a hurried good-bye to Ginny, Hermione grabbed Harry by the arm to pull him out of the Great Hall. 

They headed to their first lesson, History of Magic. Under normal circumstances, only Hermione’s meticulous note-taking could make the hour long lesson seem to go by. On this day, however, the whole morning passed in a blur of lessons, of students telling Harry good luck or that they would have a box of tissues ready for him, and all too soon it seemed, Professor McGonagall was hurrying over to them at lunch in the Great Hall. 

“Potter, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now. . . . You have to get ready for your first task,” she said, looking as nervous as Hermione felt. Hermione put her goblet down, her stomach performing a somersault at Professor McGonagall’s words. 

“Okay,” said Harry, standing up, his fork falling onto his plate with a clatter. 

“Good luck, Harry,” Hermione whispered frantically. Suddenly a summoning charm seemed to be rather a poor choice to get past a dragon than it had the night before and a broomstick seemed to be rather closer to a wooden torch than the only possible option they had come up with. 

“You’ll be fine!” she said in a croaking voice, trying to make herself believe it. 

“Yeah,” said Harry in a voice that was also most unlike his own. He left the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall. 

As soon as they were out of sight, Hermione felt like she might be sick herself. She pushed away from her plate and took a swig of pumpkin juice from her goblet. 

Ginny, who had been sitting across from Hermione looked worried as well, but when she spoke, her voice was firm and confident. 

“He’s gotten out of worse scrapes than this, with a lot less time to prepare.” She took a deep breath and continued in a sure voice, “He’s going to be alright, Hermione.”

Whether Ginny believed it or not, it did help calm her nerves a bit. Hermione took a deep breath to calm down as Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet. The Great Hall became still and silent at once. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, now that we are fed and watered, the first task of the Triwizard tournament is ready to begin,” he said, pausing as the Hall erupted into cheers. 

As the final smatterings of applause died away, he continued, “The first task will be taking place in a prepared area of the school grounds. Prefects, if you will help our Head Boy and Girl direct your houses and our guests toward the stands.” 

There was a flurry of movement and excited chattering in the air as hundreds of chairs scooted back and their owners began excitedly making their way to the door. Hermione and Ginny joined the crowd leaving the Great Hall. Hermione tried to see Ron in the crowd, but he was nowhere to be found. They made their way out of the castle and down the path that lead toward Hagrid’s hut. 

Before they could get to Hagrid’s hut however, a hovering arrow made of Flutterby bushes pointed them down a path leading into the trees. Everyone was gasping and whispering with a nervous excitement being so close to the Forbidden Forest. Around a clearing of trees, Hermione saw the paddock with stands surrounding it. A large circle of stands surrounded a large expanse surrounded by a formation of rocks and boulders that could only be described as nests. Hermione shivered in nervous anticipation. 

She and Ginny made their way into the stands, scanning the crowd. They sat down with a section of Gryffindors. With a sad swoop in her stomach, Hermione realized that if Harry’s name hadn’t come out of the Goblet, she would probably be sitting in the same seat with Harry and Ron at that moment, eagerly cheering for Cedric and probably excitedly wondering what the task would be.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Ron, closely followed by Fred, George, and Lee came up the steps and edged into the row to join Hermione and Ginny. Ron sat down next to Hermione. 

“Exciting, isn’t it?” Fred asked from the other end of the row, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Ron and Ginny nodded in agreement, but Hermione fixed them all with an icy glare. 

They still didn’t know what was coming, she tried to remind herself, looking out to glare at the end of the paddock. Ron nudged her with his shoulder.

“Come on, Hermione. Try not to have so much fun already,” he said, rolling his eyes at her. “It’s going to be fine. How many times do I have to tell you it’s supposed to be safer this year?”

“Sorry if I’m a bit on edge Ron,” Hermione hissed to him quietly so the others wouldn’t hear, “but I wouldn’t exactly call dragons “safer” this year.” 

Ron’s face was comical as his jaw fell open in a round O in shock. He gaped at Hermione for a moment, then Hermione saw some of the panic she had been feeling since Sunday begin to flicker in Ron’s eyes. 

He laughed nervously, as though waiting for Hermione to laugh and say, “Just kidding.” 

“Hermione, be serious. No…no way,” he said, shaking his head, “Charlie said, it takes a dozen trained wizards to control one dragon. They can’t be expecting students to…, not one student.” Ron trailed off, growing paler at Hermione’s serious face.

“Well, they are expecting students to get past a dragon whether you believe it or not,” she said. 

“How long have you known about this?” Ron’s eyes were frantic as if he had just been told he had to face a dragon that day too.

“Since Sunday morning. Why else do you think we’ve been in the library?”

“What else is new? You’re always in the library, Hermione. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because at the time, it didn’t seem like you were very concerned,” Hermione said, in a huffy whisper. Ginny, Fred, and George eyed them suspiciously.

Ron opened his mouth to retort but the booming voice of Ludo Bagman cut him off.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the first task of the one hundred and twenty-fifth Triwizard Tournament!” The stands erupted with cheers and applause, but the sound of Bagman’s magically magnified voice silenced them at once. 

This first task has been designed to test our champion’s nerve and ability to think on their feet, therefore they have not been told anything about the task until today. That task, ladies and gentlemen, is to collect the golden egg from the creature about to be brought before you.”

He gestured with his arm to the far end of the enclosure and a collective gasp echoed through the crowd. Hermione felt her legs go weak at the sight of the bluish-grey dragon being led over to a nesting area. She gripped Ron’s arm tightly. Ron stared wide-eyed at the dragon before turning to Hermione, a horrified expression on his face. The wizards backed out of the enclosure and a whistle sounded. 

Hermione held her breath, waiting to see if Harry came out. She gripped Ron’s hand.

“Ah, Hermione! Are you trying to tear my whole arm off?” Ron said, trying to pull away from her iron grip to little avail.

“Our first champion, Mr. Diggory of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!” Hermione let out a breath as the crowd went wild. Cedric Diggory walked into the enclosure, a grim look on his face. Hermione let go of Ron’s arm and began twisting her hands in her lap as Cedric entered the paddock to tumultuous applause. He looked ashen, but determined, his wand already out.

He walked over to the edge of the rocks surrounding the dragon and her nest. She hissed as Cedric climbed up onto one of the rocks, staying just out of her reach. She bared her fangs and a jet of fire burst from her mouth. Cedric jumped to a neighboring rock in the nick of time. Hermione could see the bottom of Cedric’s robes smoking. The crowd roared in approval.

“Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow,” Bagman said, as Cedric got to his feet. He moved along the rocks around the enclosure, slowly getting closer and closer to her. The dragon hadn’t started breathing fire again, but the smoke was coming from her mouth and a feral growl rumbled in her throat. 

“He’s taking risks, this one!” Bagman called out as Cedric raised his wand. He pointed it at a rock near the dragon and gave it a flick. Cedric had transfigured a rock into a dog, using it as a distraction to make a break for the nest. Hermione gasped, horrified, and buried her face in Ron’s shirt when the dragon turned at the distraction and reared up to bat at the dog. 

The crowd gasped loudly and Hermione looked up. The dragon had missed the dog, who promptly sprinted away to the other end of the paddock. 

“Clever move — pity it didn’t work!” Bagman said.

The dragon, losing interest in the dog had turned its attention back to the nest. She roared in fury at the sight of Cedric about to grasp the golden egg. Another jet of fire shot from her mouth, but this time Cedric wasn’t so lucky. It grazed his face as he grabbed the egg and ran. 

The crowd groaned and then roared in applause as Bagman shouted, “Very good indeed!” The handlers were already rushing forward to contain the dragon.

“And now the marks from the judges!”

At Bagman’s words, Madame Maxime raised her wand and a long ribbon shot out of the end, twisting itself into a number seven. Cedric received average to good marks from the other judges before being taken back to the medical tent. 

“That was, that was incredible!” George said, turning to Ginny, Lee, and Fred who were nodding enthusiastically.

“Brilliant,” Lee said, grinning. They all began excitedly recapping Cedric’s performance in the enclosure. Ron however, turned his attention back to Hermione. 

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he spoke, “How did you find out about the dragons?”

Hermione quickly recapped the events of Saturday night and what Harry had told her the next day. 

Ron sat, lost in thought for a moment before looking up at Hermione in horror. 

“Then that means, when I came down, Harry was talking to…,” Ron said, trailing off. 

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but the crowd had erupted into loud applause as Bagman called out, “One down, three to go!” He blew the whistle again. 

“Miss Delacour, if you please!”

Hermione felt a great deal of respect toward Fleur as she entered the enclosure, her face composed and her head high. Fleur didn’t acknowledge the applause, but walked with purpose to the edge of the nest area, her eyes never leaving the dragon. She stayed out of the dragon’s reach, weaving her wand in complicated movements. Fleur was trying to lull the dragon to sleep, Hermione realized, as it opened its mouth in a lazy yawn.

It was an interesting strategy, Hermione thought, thinking back to all the books she and Harry had poured through. ‘Dragons are extremely difficult to slay, owing to the ancient magic that imbues their thick hides, which none but the most powerful spells can penetrate... .’

Bagman certainly seemed to think so too as he shouted gleefully, “Oh, I'm not sure that was wise!” 

The dragon had lain its head down and its eyes had grown heavy. The crowd sat hushed as Fleur climbed the rocks. They gasped collectively when her footing slipped and she nearly slipped down onto the dragon itself. 

“Oh . . . nearly!” Bagman said excitedly.”

Fleur stood upright again and made her way down into the dragon’s enclosure. She crept along slowly, her eyes still never leaving the dozing dragon. She had just reached the edge of the nest area when the dragon snored loudly and a stream of fire caught Fleur’s robes on fire. 

The crowd gasped as Fleur let out a yelp of panic. She put the fire out with her wand quickly and ducked behind a rock.  
The crowd held its breath as the Dragon made a rumbling noise in its throat, but stayed asleep. 

“Careful now . . . good lord, I thought she’d had it then!” Bagman said.

Fleur edged out again, her wand at the ready. She snuck into the enclosure and grasped the egg. She had to put her wand away to hold it, and Hermione could see Fleur trembling as she backed away from it. When Fleur made it out of the nest, the crowd burst into cheers and applause. 

“Harry'd have to be mental to sign up for this,” Ron said, looking grave.

Hermione fixed him with an incredulous stare. 

“Finally caught on, have you?”

Ron looked uncomfortable. 

“It’s been coming on for a bit now,” he said before they were interrupted for the scoring.

Fleur too received good marks, and Bagman again blew his whistle. 

“And here comes Mr. Krum!” he cried.

The applause for Krum was the loudest yet. He slouched into the enclosure, his wand out. Krum’s eyes narrowed at the dragon in a calculating way. He held his wand out, pointed directly at the dragon as he climbed up and into the enclosure. There was a moment of complete silence in the enclosure as Krum glared at the dragon. She swished her tail menacingly. The crowd gasped as a red jet of light shot from Krum’s wand, directly into the dragon’s eye.

“Very daring!” Bagman was yelling over the horrible, roaring shriek. Hermione covered her mouth with her hands, while the crowd drew its collective breath. The dragon reared up and in her agony began to stomp around, her massive feet squashing most of the eggs in the nest. Krum rushed in between her flailing limbs. 

“That’s some nerve he’s showing — and —yes, he’s got the egg!” Bagman roared as Krum scooped up the egg and lumbered out of the enclosure. 

Applause shattered the wintery air like breaking glass; Krum had finished. He had taken less time than either Cedric or Fleur, and Hermione felt an icy dart of adrenaline shoot through her stomach — it would be Harry’s turn any moment. One by one, Krum’s scores were shown for the crowd. The judges had each taken off a point penalty for destroying the other eggs, but they were still high. 

Hermione grabbed Ron’s hand tightly as the cheers for Krum died away. Ron’s face was pale as the dragon handlers lead a Hungarian Horntail into the enclosure. Perhaps because Hermione knew Harry would be facing her, she looked even more menacing, swishing her spiked tail in a wide arc. It left long gouges in the earth where it landed. She bared her teeth in indignation as the handlers began backing away. Hermione brought her hands up to her face, shaking her head. 

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” she moaned. 

The whistle sounded and the stands exploded with noise, most cheering, but a fair number of booing as well from the Slytherin and Hufflepuff sections. Hermione clutched her face, her fingernails digging into her cheeks as she watched Harry walk into the enclosure, looking white but determined. He pulled his wand out and held it up. A few titters of laughter broke out as nothing appeared to have happened. 

“Concentrate Harry, concentrate!” Hermione screamed as the Gryffindors cheered loudly in encouragement. She searched the sky in the direction of the castle frantically. 

And then, with a surge of exhilaration, she saw it! The Firebolt came zooming overhead and Hermione shrieked in excitement and relief along with the rest of the crowd. 

“He did it!” She yelled, throwing her arms around Ron. 

The broomstick skidded to a halt next to Harry and he swung a leg over and kicked off. The crowd exploded in a wild frenzy of cheers. Many people had gotten to their feet as Harry rocketed upward. He zoomed back and forth, narrowly avoiding her talons and spiked tail. He stayed just out of her reach as he flew up and down, making her frustrated and dizzy. Hermione moaned as Harry narrowly avoided a jet of fire the Horntail let loose. 

“Great Scott, he can fly!” yelled Bagman, over the roar of the crowd. 

He gasped weakly, continuing, “Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?

Harry soared higher in a circle; the Horntail was still following his progress; its head revolving on its long neck — and then, he rocketed downward. Ron and Hermione gasped in horror as the spiked tail came whipping up to hit Harry in the shoulder. The crowd screamed and groaned, but Harry didn’t acknowledge the wound. He flew around her and then shot upward, dipping down as though to tease her before shooting up out of her reach. 

Hermione gripped her face tighter as the Horntail let out a roar of frustration, her mouth open and teeth bared. 

And then she reared, spreading her great, black, leathery wings at last, as wide as those of a small airplane — and Harry dived. 

Before the dragon knew what he had done, or where he had disappeared to, Harry was speeding toward the ground as fast as he could go, toward the eggs now unprotected by her clawed front legs —he had taken his hands off his Firebolt — he had seized the golden egg.

“Look at that!” Bagman was yelling. “Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!” 

The crowd was still going insane, nearly everyone but the Slytherins this time. Hermione and Ron joined in. Hermione felt weak with relief as Harry flew around the stands once, before coming into land near the medical tent. 

“Ron, come on!” Hermione shrieked, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him to his feet. They ran down the steps of the stands and toward the medical tents. They ran inside and almost immediately came face to face with Harry. He looked completely exhilarated, completely the opposite of just a few hours ago. 

“Harry, you were brilliant!” Hermione said squeakily, her hands still shaking. “You were amazing! You really were!” She felt buoyant with relief. She grinned at Harry, but Harry was looking at Ron, who was very white and staring at Harry as though he were a ghost.

“Harry,” he said, very seriously, “whoever put your name in that goblet — I — I reckon they’re trying to do you in!”

Hermione resisted the urge to put her forehead in her hand. Instead, she looked for Harry’s reaction.

“Caught on, have you?” said Harry coldly. “Took you long enough.”

Hermione stood nervously between them, looking from one to the other. Ron opened his mouth to speak.

“It’s okay,” Harry said before Ron could get the words out. “Forget it.”

“No,” said Ron, “I shouldn’t’ve —”

“Forget it,” Harry said. Ron grinned nervously at him, and Harry grinned back.

Hermione felt the wave of emotion finally overcome her. The relief that Harry and Ron had finally made up, the fear and overwhelming relief that Harry had made it through the first task, the lack of sleep over the previous two nights. She began crying, very hard.

“There’s nothing to cry about!” Harry told her, bewildered.

“You two are so stupid!” Hermione shouted, stamping her foot on the ground, tears splashing down her front. She threw her arms around each of them, now crying very hard and very noisily indeed. She ducked out of the tent, embarrassed. She hurried away from the tent but made her way back up to the stands slowly to calm down. 

People were beginning to leave the stands when she returned to their seats. Ginny had been waiting for her. She looked at Hermione’s red puffy eyes, alarmed and asked urgently, “What is it? Is Harry okay?”

“Yes, yes, he is! He’s fine and he and Ron have made up and I’m just so happy.” Hermione said breathlessly, tears beginning to spill over again. Ginny patted Hermione on the back consolingly.

Fred and George exchanged a nervous glance. Lee shook his head muttering, “Barking mad.” 

“Well, at any rate, let Harry know we’re celebrating in the Common Room as soon as Fred and I get enough provisions,” George said cheerily. 

Hermione tried to avoid Fred’s eye and nodded to George as they all joined the throng of students making their way back to the castle, saying nervously that she ought to find Harry and Ron. 

Hermione hadn’t spoken to Fred since Saturday night when she had snapped at him. She’d been so preoccupied with getting Harry through the first task, she hadn’t talked to anyone but Harry or Ginny at meals. She knew she needed to apologize, she just wasn’t sure how to.

What was she supposed to say? ‘Sorry if I was a bit rude and on edge the last time we spoke, but if it makes you feel better, I was actually standing watch to make sure a wanted criminal could have access to the school fires.’

Shaking her head, Hermione decided to turn her attention to finding Harry and Ron. She spotted them walking up the path away from the tents, laughing.

With a wide smile, Hermione said goodbye to Ginny. She ran to meet them, and the three of them set off together back up to the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness. Dare I say it, this might actually be my favorite chapter (posted, that is). 😉 
> 
> I'm so excited that our boys are back together, and especially for what is going to happen next: The Yule Ball! So this year for Camp NaNoWriMo (a much more laid back version of NaNo that takes place in April and July), I'm focusing only on this story. I want to get as much written as I can this month. I've given myself a pretty ambitious goal of trying to get Year Four finished by the end of May.
> 
> I mean, what else is there to do, amirite? How are you guys coping right now? Picking up old hobbies, new ones, just plowing through Netflix? lol Seriously though, please, please, stay home, stay safe, wash your hands, etc. 
> 
> Until next time!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I don't own any part of the Harry Potter Universe and this chapter contains direct quotes from GOF.

Hermione stood in front of the large painting. Glancing nervously down the brightly lit hallway, she realized that she had never been to this part of the castle before. What reason would she have had, she reasoned. The only place she knew of in this part of the castle was the Hufflepuff common room.

There weren’t any Hufflepuffs in the corridor now though, it was just after classes had finished and everyone was at dinner. Hermione looked at the bowl of fruit again, searching for the green pear Fred had mentioned. She reached up and tickled it with her index finger skeptically, her eyes widening when giggled and turned into a green doorknob.

Hermione felt a guilty swoop of her stomach. She hadn’t talked to Fred since the first task when she had asked about how to get into the kitchens. She could remember it vividly though.

_“Want a jam tart, Hermione?” said Fred, startling her. Hermione hadn’t realized how close he was._

_Hermione felt her mouth go dry as she turned to face him and tried to respond. She looked at the tray stalling, and Fred misinterpreted her silence._

_“It’s all right,” he said. “I haven’t done anything to them. It’s the custard creams you’ve got to watch —”_

_Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spat it out._

_Fred laughed and looked over at her again. His smile faded a bit and he looked at her, a bit of a smirk on his face. Hermione’s stomach was in knots as she tried to decipher his expression._

_“Just my little joke, Neville. . . .,” he said, his eyes still on Hermione as she took a jam tart. He kept looking at her and Hermione was painfully aware of the fact that he was waiting for her to say something. Hermione racked her brain for anything to say._

_“Did you get all this from the kitchens, Fred?”_

_She wanted to smack herself in the forehead in embarrassment._

_“Yep,” said Fred, blinking a few times before grinning at her. He put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a house-elf._

_“ ‘Anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!’ They’re dead helpful . . . get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish.”_

_Fred winked at her then. Hermione fought to keep the scowl from her face though. She ignored the jibes about house-elves too because an idea had occurred to her._

_“How do you get in there?” Hermione said, in an innocently casual sort of voice._

_“Easy,” said Fred, “concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and-.”_

_He stopped speaking and looked suspiciously at her. “Why?”_

_“Nothing,” said Hermione quickly, but her heart dropped at the hurt look on his face. It was gone in a second, but she had seen it. Then he’d joined in with George in teasing her over S.P.E.W., and Hermione knew she had ruined her chance of making up with him._

There hadn’t been any time that night to talk to him anyway, Hermione had tried to reason with herself. After Neville’s distraction, Hermione had taken the opportunity to retreat over to Harry and Ron. She hadn’t been able to help herself from sneaking glances over to Fred throughout the party though, and every time she looked over at him, he was engaged in loud and excited conversation or else showing off products with George, surrounded by other Gryffindors.

It gave her enough of an excuse to not try to seek him out again at the party, but Hermione knew she didn’t have one for not finding him at some point over the previous few days.

There just hadn’t seemed to be a good time to, at least that’s what she told herself. Since the first task, she hadn’t seen Fred outside of the common room either and as embarrassing as it was to admit, she was nervous to talk to him. Especially in front of any potential on-lookers.

She didn’t even know what she would say if she did. Maybe if she had apologized immediately that night or played it off as a joke, she wondered, the awkwardness between the two of them wouldn’t have formed and they would still be speaking. Not being able to talk to him made her feel a bit empty. After a moment though, Hermione shook her head and took a deep breath. She didn’t want to think about Fred anymore and she was wasting time.

Hermione grabbed the green doorknob and pulled the door open. She’d thought she had been past being shocked by magic, but the sight before her took her breath away. There were elves everywhere, dozens of them. They all wore pure white tea towels emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest.

They ironed linens, they tended fires, they turned roasts on spits, never stopping and always inexplicably smiling. Hermione looked around and her eyes landed on an elf who was dressed remarkably unlike the others. He was wearing an odd assortment of items that were being used as garments, but reminded Hermione more of the wizards at the Quidditch World Cup than real clothes: a pair of children’s soccer shorts, a tie with horseshoes on it over a bare chest, a pair of odd socks and a tea cozy for a hat, decorated with several badges. He seemed happy though, beaming as he stirred a large pot, Hermione thought. Emboldened by that thought, she made her way over to him.

“Um, pardon me?” Hermione began nervously. She hadn’t expected to feel so nervous. The elf looked up at her surprised but still beaming.

“Yes, miss? Can Dobby get you something?”

Hermione’s mouth fell open in shock. Surely not, she thought in a daze. She fought to regain her ability to speak.

“Dobby? You’re Dobby? Oh goodness, the same Dobby who tried to tell Harry about the Chamb-,”

“You knows Harry Potter, Miss?” Dobby squeaked excitedly, cutting her off.

“Yes, I do. He’s one of my best friends.”

Dobby dropped the spoon and the next thing she knew, Dobby was wringing her hand excitedly.

“Dobby has hoped to see Harry Potter again, and he is excited to meet one of Harry Potter’s friends. Dobby works at Hogwarts now, miss. He wants to see Harry Potter someday to tell him that he likes his new freedom and to say thank you again.”

Hermione felt speechless for a moment and her throat felt a bit tight. Blinking, she found her voice again.

“Dobby, will you be down here for a while?” Hermione stammered in a rush.

“Of course, miss. House-elves always stays in the kitchens while students is awake.”

“Okay. I have to go now Dobby, but I’ll be right back. I promise,” Hermione said breathlessly, backing out of the kitchens. When Hermione left the kitchens, she broke into a run. She couldn’t believe it. Dobby was here and he loved his freedom too, it had been more than Hermione could have dared to hope.

She sprinted to the Great Hall, where she assumed Harry and Ron would be finishing dinner. They weren’t there. Hermione turned around and started running toward the common room and spotted them, about to step into the portrait hole.

She skidded to a halt in front of them, gasping for breath.

“Harry! Harry, you’ve got to come — you’ve got to come, the most amazing thing’s happened — please,” Hermione said, her breath coming in gasps.

His eyebrows raised, Harry asked, “What’s this about?”

“I’ll explain everything but you’ve got to come now.”

Hermione took them both by the arm and began towing them forward. They followed her, interested now, and she led the way back, practically running again in her excitement.

As they approached the painting of the fruit Harry spoke.

“Oh hang on . . .” said Harry, coming to a stop halfway down the corridor. “Wait a minute, Hermione. . . .”

“What?” She turned around to look at him, anticipation all over her face.

“I know what this is about,” said Harry. He nudged Ron and pointed to the painting just behind Hermione. It showed a gigantic silver fruit bowl.

“Hermione!” said Ron, cottoning on. “You’re trying to rope us into that spew stuff again!”

“No, no, I’m not!” she said hastily feeling her cheeks starting to burn. “And it’s not spew, Ron —”

“Changed the name, have you?” said Ron, frowning at her. “What are we now, then, the House-Elf Liberation Front? I’m not barging into that kitchen and trying to make them stop work, I’m not doing it —”

“I’m not asking you to!” Hermione said impatiently, fighting the urge to snap back at him. “I came down here just now, to talk to them all, and I found — oh come on, Harry, I want to show you!”

She seized his arm again, pulled him in front of the picture of the giant fruit bowl, stretched out her forefinger, and tickled the huge green pear. As soon as it turned into a doorknob, Hermione seized it, pulled the door open, and pushed Harry hard in the back, forcing him inside.

He and Ron had one brief glimpse of an enormous, high-ceilinged room, large as the Great Hall above it, with mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped around the stone walls, and a great brick fireplace at the other end, when something small hurtled toward them from the middle of the room, squealing, “Harry Potter, sir! Harry Potter!”

Hermione beamed at the sight of him barreling into Harry, throwing his arms around him. Then Hermione saw the look on Harry’s face, both shocked but touched. He looked up and smiled at her and Ron, that same emotion on his face. Hermione smiled back at him, content.

*******************

“Weasley, Weasley!” Professor Flitwick called from the top of his tall tower of books. Fred and George's heads snapped up in confused alarm. It was the end of Charms and they had already written the assignment down. They’d had been using the time left of the period to argue about yet another letter to send to Ludo Bagman.

“Now then, as I was saying,” Professor Flitwick said, turning his attention back to everyone.

“One of the many traditions of the Triwizard Tournament is the Yule Ball. Held on the evening of December 25th, it is an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests and strengthen international relations. The ball will be open only to fourth years and above — although you may invite a younger student if you wish …,” he trailed off, looking a bit bemused.

The room filled with excited whispers and talking about the ball. Suddenly, Lee gripped his arm tightly, turning his attention away from the rest of them.

“I’m going to do it, I’m going to ask Alicia,” Lee said, as though about lead an army into battle. He looked over to where she was excitedly talking to Angelina, an ill look on his face.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” George said, dismissively as the bell rang.

As they left the Charms classroom though, Lee marched off purposefully, not saying anymore to them and Fred exchanged an impressed glance with George.

“You know, I think he might actually do it,” Fred said.

“He might still weasel out. Two Galleons?” George asked, holding out his hand as he watched Lee retreat.

Fred took it, grinning.

“What about you? Are you going to ask Angelina then? Better do it fast before someone else asks her first.”

George’s face went very red and he glared at Fred. “I dunno, are you going to ask Hermione then?”

Fred felt a jolt in his stomach at the sound of Hermione’s name. He had thought immediately of asking her to be his partner, but he shrugged noncommittally.

He didn’t know where they stood anymore and it wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to tell him what was really wrong that night. It had been the way she had frozen him out since. He knew she was aware of it too, he thought, thinking back on the way she had avoided his gaze at the first task, and then after asking him about the House Elves too.

“So, what do you reckon though? Should we send him the letter?” George asked, suddenly changing the subject. Fred was grateful though. He wanted to ignore the memory of the party after the first task. Hermione had just walked off after getting the information she wanted and he hadn’t spoken to her again that night. He reached up to rub the back of his neck

“I don’t know George. I see what you’re saying but you’re talking about blackmail and we don’t have any proof either. It’ll be our word against his.”

Fred and George had been spending a lot of free time in the library as of late. They were trying to find out as much as they could about Ludo Bagman and thought they might have found something. It was a small article about Bagman being named Head of the Department of Magical Games and sports in an old Daily Prophet.

_“Other more qualified candidates were passed up for the position making Bagman’s selection for the position even more questionable, combined with his checkered past,”_ the article had read.

What Ludo Bagman’s checkered past was exactly however, they still didn’t know.

“We’ve tried playing nice Fred. It’s time to play his game the way he wants to play it.”

George’s mouth was set in a hard line.

“And what happens when he reports us for blackmailing him, only thing is, he’ll have the proof. Look, he’s going to have to come to this ball right? He’s a judge after all. I say we go back to the plan to corner him.” Fred said, firmly.

“Fine. I still want to send another letter though.”

“Okay, maybe we can tell him that we will have to take action if he doesn’t pay up. He can’t make anything of that,” Fred said firmly.

“Fine, but I’m telling him to have it by the Yule Ball,” George muttered.

“No, we need him to show up, we don’t want to lose the chance to corner him,” Fred said, in alarm.

“Okay, let’s get the letter written tonight then. We can ask Ron to borrow Pigwidgeon,” George said.

“Yeah.” Fred didn’t voice what he was thinking. He was beginning to think it was an exercise in futility. Bagman was never going to pay them. Their only hope it seemed was going to be to blackmail him into paying them. Unfortunately they had nothing to use as leverage yet.

Fred and George made their way to the Great Hall and sat to dinner. A few moments later, Lee appeared, still looking ashen and grey, but pleased.

“You’ve done it then?” Fred grinned.

Lee didn’t seem to be able to speak but nodded.

“Ha!” Fred grinned. “Pay up.”

George rolled his eyes. The bets between each other weren’t real bets since their money was always pooled and neither of them actually kept track of what the other owed.

“So what did she say then?” George asked.

Lee’s grin spread wide. “She said yes.”

“Good for you, mate,” George grinned.

Fred nodded in agreement and as they ate Lee slowly began to regain his color. After dinner, Fred and George parted ways with Lee, heading to the library to write their next letter to Bagman.

When it was finished, they headed back up to Gryffindor tower. Fred spotted Ron, Harry, and Hermione at a table in the corner of the common room. As they approached, the game of Exploding Snap Ron and Harry were playing exploded, singing Ron’s eyebrows.

"Nice look, Ron ... go well with your dress robes, which will,” he said, sitting down at the table with them as Ron felt how much damage had been done.

"Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?" Fred asked,.

"No, he's off delivering a letter," said Ron. "Why?"

"Because Fred wants to invite him to the ball," said George sarcastically.

"Because we want to send a letter, you stupid great prat," said Fred.

"Who d'you two keep writing to, eh?" said Ron.

"Nose out, Ron, or I'll burn that for you too," said George, waving his wand threateningly. "So . . . you lot got dates for the ball yet?"

"Nope," said Ron.

"Well, you'd better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone," Fred said, nudging George, who he could see was now looking across the room at Angelina.

"Who're you going with, then?" said Ron.

"Angelina," said George promptly, without a trace of embarrassment. Fred grinned at him expectantly.

"What?" said Ron, taken aback. "You've already asked her?"

"Good point," said George. He turned his head and called across the common room, "Oi! Angelina!"

Angelina, who had been chatting with Alicia Spinnet near the fire, looked over at him.

"What?" she called back.

"Want to come to the ball with me?"

Angelina gave George an appraising sort of look.

"All right, then," she said, and she turned back to Alicia and carried on chatting with a bit of a grin on her face.

"There you go," said George to Harry and Ron, "piece of cake.”

He grinned at Fred, waggling his eyebrows as he got to his feet.

Yawning, he said, "We'd better use a school owl then, George, come on... " he said in parting.

**********************

Hermione had kept her bowed over her work during the entire conversation Fred and George had been having with Ron and didn’t look up again until she was sure they had left the common room.

Ron stopped feeling his eyebrows and looked across the smoldering wreck of his card castle at Harry. "We should get a move on, you know . . . ask someone. He's right. We don't want to end up with a pair of trolls."

Hermione let out a sputter of indignation.

"A pair of... what, excuse me?"

"Well - you know," said Ron, shrugging. "I'd rather go alone than with - with Eloise Midgen, say."

"Her acne's loads better lately - and she's really nice!"

"Her nose is off-center," said Ron.

"Oh I see," Hermione said, bristling. "So basically, you're going to take the best looking girl who'll have you, even if she's completely horrible?"

"Er - yeah, that sounds about right," said Ron.

"I'm going to bed," Hermione snapped, and she swept off toward the girls' staircase without another word feeling disgusted and dreading December 25th.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! After another month hiatus, I finally have another chapter ready! I also have some really exciting news to report. Over the past several weeks, I've been on administrative leave at work because of the virus, so... 
> 
> The good news: I got a LOT of this story written... and I mean A LOT.
> 
> The bad news: I didn't hit my goal of having book 4 completely written by the end of this month. Most of what I have written over the last month takes place between books 5-7.
> 
> More good news: Some of it was Book 4 and Chapter 18 is ready too!
> 
> This chapter has been one that I've struggled with for a while because we know that in canon, Fred asks Angelina to the ball, not George. Well...I have a few things to say about that (because of course, I do. You should all know by now that long chapter notes are my jam). 
> 
> 1\. The canon takes a weird turn if you get right down to it. George ends up with Angelina........and it's never established when. Which raises a few questions. How well did the ball go for Fred and Angelina? Did they just go to the ball together and part ways as friends or did they date for a while afterward? Did George steal her from Fred *gasp*? When did they even get together and did Fred give them his blessing? Whatever JKR has decided is canon, George getting married to a girl who at least briefly dated his late twin brother just doesn't make me fangirl. HOWEVER!!!!!
> 
> 2\. I actually really like the pairing, which is why I decided to give them the romance they deserved from the get-go (weird brother dynamic not included). So gear up for the George/Angelina romance you didn't ask for but are getting anyway lol.
> 
> All I can say about Chapter 18 is that it contains scenes I've had written for MONTHS and I am so excited that it's finally almost time to share them with you guys! I hope you're all staying safe! Until next time!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any part of the HP universe and this chapter contains direct quotation from GOF.

Hermione was still so annoyed with both Ron and Harry the following morning that she made a point to speak only to Ginny all through breakfast. Unfortunately, it was only the beginning; the entire school could talk of nothing but the ball.

“Speak for yourself mate, I’m going to look like a real prat without a date. McGonagall said the Champions have to open the ball with a dance,” Harry said, as they made their way in from Herbology a few days later.

Certainly she would rather have a proper date but as the days passed, Hermione began to feel more and more hurt that in their desperation, neither Harry or Ron seemed to realize that she was a girl too. Had he asked, she would have gone with Harry as friends to spare him the embarrassment of having to open the ball with the other champions without a partner.

Hermione didn’t want to admit it, but Ron’s words had stung a bit more than she had let on.

_"So basically, you're going to take the best looking girl who'll have you, even if she's completely horrible?"_

_"Er - yeah, that sounds about right," said Ron._

It had been a really rude statement on its own, but the fact that neither of them had even bothered to ask her if she had a partner had really gotten under her skin. On Friday, she finally had enough.

"I suppose there's always Moaning Myrtle," Harry said gloomily during the afternoon break before dinner. Hermione let out an incredulous huff. Now she was a worse option than Moaning Myrtle?

"Harry - we've just got to grit our teeth and do it," said Ron in a tone that suggested they were planning the storming of an impregnable fortress. “When we get back to the common room tonight, we'll both have partners - agreed?"

"Er . . . okay," said Harry.

It was too much. Hermione muttered that she needed to get a book from the library and stomped away from them. When she got to the library though, she went over to her usual table and sat at it not getting her books out. She knew that she was taking it all a bit too personally, but at the moment she felt like sulking in the corner feeling a bit sorry for herself.

Finally, Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill and began doodling on it, checking her watch to see how much time there was left before afternoon lessons. She wondered if she would be able to stand listening to Harry and Ron complain about their lack of dates for the rest of the day without losing her temper with them.

“Excuse me. Could I haff a verd?”

A voice over her right shoulder startled her. Spinning around in her seat, Hermione found herself face to face with Viktor Krum, standing about two feet from her. He looked rather nervous and was glancing around, as though making sure he hadn’t been followed. Hermione, shocked that he had even spoken to her, nodded wordlessly and moved her bag out of the open chair.

When he sat down, Krum furrowed his heavy brow and looked down at the table.

“I haff seen you here often,” he said.

“I do come here quite often. I’ve seen you as well.”

Hermione had tried to keep the impatience out of her voice, but she knew it was a matter of time before the Viktor Krum Fan Club arrived. She wanted him to get on with whatever he had to say before they arrived.

“I mean to say, I haff seen you here often, but not usually alone. Usually, you haff friends vith you, like Potter or Veasley.”

“Yes…, and you needed to talk to me by myself?” Hermione asked, suspicion beginning to prickle on the edges of her scalp.

Surely he wasn’t trying to ask her something about the tournament, she thought. Surely he realized that she was friends with Harry and wouldn’t be persuaded to help another Champion with a task.

“Vell, I haff been trying to, um pluck up the courage, I think is the phrase? I thought it might be easier if your friends vern’t around.”  
Krum took a deep breath and looked at Hermione.

“Do you haff a partner to this ball?”

Hermione’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t help it. It was the last question she had expected to be asked, by Victor Krum of all people.

“No, I don’t. No one has asked me yet.” Hermione said honestly, feeling the heat rushing to her cheeks.

Krum looked surprised but relieved at her words.

“Ah, vell vould you like to go to the ball vith me?”

Krum bit the inside of his cheek nervously waiting for her response.

Hermione was thunderstruck. She stared at Krum blankly.

“YOU don’t have a partner already? Surely someone has already asked you?”

The question had come out of her mouth without thinking, but Krum didn’t seem offended. He actually smiled a bit and looked up at her.

“Yes, but I vould like to go vith you. You are not like the other girls. Vhen I come here, you do not vatch me like others. You always are reading something instead. I haff vanted to come to talk to you for some time now, but you alvays leave as soon as I come in.”

Hermione’s mouth fell open again and she felt her insides warm at Krum’s words. He looked so nervous and unsure of what she was going to say.

“Yes, I will go to the ball with you, Viktor,” Hermione said, smiling shyly at him.

“Really, you vill come vith me?”

Krum’s face broke into a real smile now, the first Hermione had seen since the Durmstrang students had arrived. It was transformative. He instantly looked less like the aloof and intimidating Quidditch player she had seen in August and more like the 18 year old student he was.

“Really, I will.” Hermione said, smiling more widely at him too.

They sat and continued to talk, laughing about Krum’s fan club when Hermione told him why she always left the library when Krum came in.

“It drives me mad. They follow me even to the bathroom,” he told Hermione, shaking his head in dismay.

Hermione told him that she had seen him at the World Cup.

“You were really amazing. It was one of the first times I really enjoyed watching Quidditch.”

Krum had actually gone red at that.

“You vere there? Then you saw my nose get broken. That vas not so amazing.”

He looked a little crestfallen remembering it.

“Oh no, I thought you were brilliant,” Hermione said, sincerely.

Hermione told Viktor that he was welcome to join her table in the future.

“I vould like that very much, Herm-, Her-.”

He struggled to pronounce her name and Hermione spent the rest of the time in the library trying to teach Krum how to say her name properly until the telltale giggles of girls entered the library.

Rolling his eyes, Krum got to his feet.

“It does not ever end. Until we meet again.”

He took Hermione’s hand and gave the back of it a swift kiss. Then he was off.

Hermione continued to sit at the table for a few more moments, replaying the last 20 minutes feeling a bit dazed. Viktor Krum had asked her to the ball, and she had accepted. Not only that, but he had actually wanted to ask her. She wasn’t his last resort or best option available. He had wanted to come talk to her for a while too, Hermione thought scooping up her bag as she stood. She touched the back of her hand where he had kissed it and headed off to Charms with a silly grin on her face.

*******************

Hermione found it difficult to focus in Charms. Luckily, since it was the end of the term Professor Flitwick had decided to simply review the spells they had already gone over. He set them around the room at stations to practice various charms, where Hermione partnered with Neville as was their usual custom. As they began to practice the Summoning Charm on the bean bags Professor Flitwick had set out, Neville looked nervous.

“Um Hermione, can I ask you something?”

Assuming he meant to ask her about the charm, Hermione didn’t pay much attention as she replied.

“Of course Neville. What is it?”

“Well, I was wondering, um, if you might like to, ah, will you go to the ball with me?”

Hermione flicked her wand up in surprise and sent her bean bag flying off course. She felt her cheeks flaming in embarrassment.

“Oh Neville, I’m so sorry. Someone asked me already. Or I would have said yes.”

She tacked the last part on at the end so he wouldn’t feel too crestfallen. Neville really was sweet, and Hermione didn’t like having to let him down.

Neville did still look a bit glum though.

“Oh, right. I just thought I would ask. You’ve always been so nice to me in lessons and a good friend,” he said

Hermione bit her lip, and thought for a moment.

“You know, I don’t think Ginny Weasley has a date. You should ask her. You would have a lot of fun together,” she said.

As it happened, Hermione knew for a fact that Ginny didn’t have a partner yet. She had told Hermione so during breakfast. She was feeling quite crestfallen that Harry hadn’t asked her but had also shot down Hermione’s idea to ask him herself.

Neville brightened considerably.

“Yeah? Do you know, I think I will ask her,” he said.

Neville tried the spell himself and to his and Hermione’s delight, his beanbag zoomed right into his hand. They spent the rest of the lesson discussing the rumors about the dance. Neville was particularly excited that the rumors of The Weird Sisters playing at the ball seemed to be true.

After Charms they headed down to Potions together, chatting animatedly. The exam in Potions was quite easy for Hermione and she was the first to finish. Unfortunately, it gave her plenty of time left afterward. She kept looking over to Neville’s side of the table nervously as Snape circled the room. He seemed to relish pausing at their table and sneering before walking over to Harry and Ron’s table to do the same.

After the bell rang, Harry told them he would meet them at dinner and walked off purposefully, a grim look on his face. Hermione made her way to the Great Hall purposefully, looking for Ginny. She found her at the end of the Gryffindor table, chatting with a few friends.

Hermione sat down next to her again and breathed into Ginny’s ear, “You’ll never believe what happened today.”

“What? You’re still in a fight with Ron?”

“At break I mean. Someone’s asked me to the ball!”

“Oh that’s great! Who?” Ginny asked excitedly.

“Well, I want to tell you but will you promise not to tell anyone? At least not yet. I’m afraid Ron will make fun of me,” she said, chewing the inside of her lip.

Ginny raised her eyebrows curiously and grinned.

“Okay, I won’t tell. How bad is it?” She asked, leaning her chin on her hand and looking expectantly.

Hermione leaned in and whispered in Ginny’s ear, “Um, Viktor Krum?”

Ginny practically leapt out of her seat as she shrieked, “WHAT!? Oh no way Hermione, this I have to hear.”

“Ginny!!!!” Hermione’s cheeks had gone scarlet again as curious stares found their way over to them.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “but you can’t spring news like that and not expect a reaction.”

Hermione quickly recapped the story sure that Ron or Harry would be arriving any second, “…and then he kissed my hand and walked away.”

Hermione finished with a dreamy smile. Ginny actually sighed. Hermione looked over to the Slytherin table over to where Viktor was talking to a few other Durmstrang students. He noticed her looking over at their table. He smiled at her and the same giddy, light feeling raced through her.

“Hermione, you’re going to be the envy of the ball.”

Ginny’s words felt like a bucket of ice water thrown over her head. She hadn’t even thought about what it was actually going to be like when she walked into the ball with Viktor.

“Well that’s not why I’m going with Viktor.” Hermione said, feeling a bit affronted. She stabbed one of the potatoes on her plate a bit savagely.

“I know, I know, but still. Wow. Viktor Krum!” Ginny mouthed the name.

“Well, at least you have a date. I still won’t be able to go at all,” she moaned.

Hermione was pleased that Neville chose to arrive at that moment. He sat down on Ginny’s opposite side. Hermione still didn’t see whether Ron had come in with him, but for Neville’s sake, she silently hoped that he didn’t choose to appear at that moment too.

“Hello Neville,” Ginny greeted him brightly.

“Hello, um Ginny, could I ask you something?”

“Sure Neville, what’s up?” Ginny asked, curiously.

“Um, would you like to go to the ball with me?”

Neville still looked very red, but Hermione gave him an encouraging nod behind Ginny.

“Really, Neville? Sure! I would love to go with you! Oh goodness, I’ll have to write Mum to have her send one of my dresses.”

Ginny sounded ecstatic and Neville’s face broke in relief as he pulled a plate towards himself. Hermione let out a breath of relief herself. The three of them continued talking about the ball through dinner. Hermione ate slowly, wondering when Harry and Ron were going to come to dinner. She waited longer than she would have normally, and even told Ginny and Neville to head back to the common room without her. Neither of them ever came down to dinner though, so Hermione headed to the common room alone.

She took the long way back up to Gryffindor Tower, walking morosely. Maybe it would have been better if she had just told Viktor no, she thought to herself. Maybe she should just tell him she couldn’t go after all. After all, everyone was sure to make fun of her or at best, react as Ginny had.

When she made it back to the common room, she saw Harry and Ron sitting on one of the sofas laughing with Ginny, who looked rather annoyed.

“Why weren’t you two at dinner?” she said, coming over to join them.

“Because — oh shut up laughing, you two — because they’ve both just been turned down by girls they asked to the ball!” said Ginny.

That shut Harry and Ron up.

“Thanks a bunch, Ginny,” said Ron sourly.

“All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?” said Hermione loftily. “Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone somewhere who’ll have you.”

But Ron was staring at Hermione as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light.

“Hermione, Neville’s right — you are a girl. . . .”

“Oh well spotted,” she said acidly wondering where he was going.

“Well — you can come with one of us!”

“No, I can’t,” snapped Hermione suddenly feeling quite relieved that she had a partner after all.

“Oh come on,” he said impatiently, “we need partners, we’re going to look really stupid if we haven’t got any, everyone else has . . .”

“I can’t come with you,” said Hermione, now blushing, “because I’m already going with someone.”

“No, you’re not!” said Ron. “You just said that to get rid of Neville!”

“Oh did I?” said Hermione, and her eyes flashed dangerously. “Just because it’s taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn’t mean no one else has spotted I’m a girl!”

Ron stared at her. Then he grinned again.

“Okay, okay, we know you’re a girl,” he said. “That do? Will you come now?”

“I’ve already told you!” Hermione said very angrily. “I’m going with someone else!”

And she stormed off toward the girls’ dormitories. By the time she reached the stairs, Hermione had her fists tightly clenched to hold back the angry tears threatening to spill over. Did Ron really think so little of her? That she would lie about having a partner. That she would actually be okay with being their last resort.

Well, she mused, Ron hadn’t even realized until about 30 seconds prior that she was in fact a girl. Entering the dormitory, she made a noise of angry indignation and flung herself face down on her four poster bed. She lay there, reflecting on the fact that it had been a very unusual day and trying to calm down from Ron’s comments downstairs.

After about 15 minutes or so, she heard the sounds of Parvati and Lavender giggling more than usual about something as they came up the stairs. More likely than not, it was about the Yule Ball. They had been talking about nothing else for the last week and a half, Hermione rolled her eyes.

Lavender and Parvati entered the dormitory and to Hermione’s surprise, came over and sat on either side of her bed.

“Hermione! You’ll never believe it!” Lavender trilled.

“Wh-,” Hermione began, but Parvati was practically bursting with excitement as she broke in,  
“Harry’s asked me to the ball!”

Hermione tried to smiled warmly as she took the Parvati’s hand.

“Oh Parvati, that’s wonderful! You are going to go with him aren’t you? You’ll have so much fun together,” she said.

“Oh yes, I’m going to go with him. Can you believe it? I must say Harry has been looking very fit this year, and he’s a school champion too,” Parvati said, swooning as she hopped up and twirled around the room.

Hermione wondered idly if Parvati would still think Harry was looking “very fit” if he hadn’t been a school champion. For a horrified moment, Hermione thought she’d spoken out loud because Parvati suddenly spun around to face Hermione and Lavender again.

She practically leapt back over and sang in a sing song voice, “And that’s not the only news we have to talk to you about!”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked confused.

“Well…” Lavender began importantly. “Harry asked me if I would go with Ron, but you see I couldn’t as I had told Seamus I would go with him. So we wondered why Ron didn’t just ask you. And that’s when Harry told us that you already had a date!” Lavender said very quickly with growing excitement.  
Hermione felt her cheeks go scarlet and didn’t say anything. Lavender and Parvati took that to mean that Harry had been correct and shrieked with excitement.

“Oh Hermione, you have to tell us! Who are you going with? Please!”

“No! You’ll laugh at me!” Hermione shook her head, twisting her hands in her lap.

“What, we promise not to! Who could it be?”

“Not Neville, he’s going with Ginny Weasley. Colin Creevey?”

“Oh, no definitely not. Kenneth Towler, no he’s going with Eloise Midgen.”

Lavender and Parvati had put their heads together. This was getting ridiculous, Hermione thought.

“Okay, I’ll tell you this. It’s no one in our year, but you both know him. I’m not saying anything else.”  
Hermione smiled in spite of herself. She had to admit she was actually enjoying having something to talk to Lavender and Parvati about.

“Oh Hermione! You have to give us more than that!” Lavender moaned.

“Well, I do actually have a favor to ask you both. Have either of you ever used Sleakeasy’s Hair Potion?”

Hermione smiled smugly as her subject change worked. Lavender and Parvati’s eyes lit up immediately.

“Oh Hermione! Are you going to use it for the ball? Let us do your hair, please! If you won’t tell us who you’re going with, at least let us do that,” Parvati begged, her hands actually clasped in front of her.

“Yes, I would really appreciate it.” Hermione said, smiling widely.

Parvati and Lavender really were brilliant when it came to hair and makeup. As they got ready for bed and Hermione pulled her hangings closed around her bed, she started to feel that same giddy thrill she was starting to get every time someone mentioned the ball or she thought about Viktor. As she began to drift to sleep, Hermione couldn’t believe that just a day ago, she had been dreading the ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so terrible at coming up with a regular upload schedule. XD I really did wait as long as I could to post this chapter, but I'm so excited to get to the Yule Ball rolling (lame pun intended) and couldn't make you guys wait any longer!
> 
> I actually don't have much to say other than I hope you guys enjoy this surprise update! Krum asking Hermione to the ball was one of the first scenes I wrote when I decided to actually write this entire fic and I hope you guys really love it as much as I do! Krumione is my favorite canon ship for Hermione and my second favorite overall (after Fredmione of course). ;)
> 
> Thank you all so much for commenting and giving this story so many kudos. I really am blown away by everyone's kind words and thoughts! <3
> 
> Until next time!


	19. Heads up, this isn't a chapter of the story, it's a note from me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, this is a note from me following JKR's most recent remarks on Twitter.

Hey everyone, I’m so sorry if you were excited about getting a notification about a new chapter only to find a rant. I talked about my thoughts on J.K Rowling’s transphobic remarks when she first made them back in December, and while I really didn’t expect to have to do this again just under six months later, here we are.

I know that a lot of us read both original works of fiction and fanfic, watch movies, listen to podcasts, play video games, etc. as a way of escaping everything going on in the world around us. The last thing I want is for someone to read this and think, “oh great. I come here to not think about the dumpster fire that is 2020, and this story I enjoy just turned into a platform for another social justice warrior”, but I couldn’t in good conscience just ignore what JKR's more recent remarks have done to the Harry Potter fandom and community and keep posting chapters like it’s business as usual. If this kind of message isn’t what you signed up for, I completely understand. The next chapter will be back to regular AMNQ chapters. If it makes you decide that this story isn’t for you at all, I understand that too, and simply say thank you for any support you’ve given in the past. <3 

I am a cisgender bisexual woman, married to a cisgender bisexual man, and therefore we “pass” as a straight couple. As such, I do understand that it affords me a lot of privilege and safety in the LGBTQ community. However, that is not the case for many of my friends in the community. I am in NO way trying to compare my feelings to that of a trans/non-binary person, but as a member of the LGBTQ community, J.K Rowling’s Twitter remarks over the weekend and in December have enraged, devastated, and made me sick.

Some of the many themes of Harry Potter are social justice, the power of love, acceptance, equality, and to me, it is just mind-boggling to reconcile the person I thought JKR was with the one she actually is. The Wizarding World has served as an escape for so many people over the past few decades. It’s given us hope, solace, and a safe place to come to be ourselves. Harry Potter has absolutely shaped who I am as an adult, I’ve made friends through this fandom, and now I grieve with it over the fact that the creator of this world doesn’t even believe her own message. Instead, she has made ugly, harmful, and dangerous remarks to a following of so many who trust her. 

Trans people matter. Non-binary people matter. Who you are matters. Trans people are some of the most marginalized groups in our society, especially trans POC (which is an equally important but different conversation). It’s not my place to tell you that you should write Harry Potter off and never pick up the series again, because the idea of never revisiting Hogwarts myself truly devastates me. It’s also not my place to tell you that you should just try to separate the art from the artist and enjoy the series for what it is, because frankly, I’ve been struggling to do that myself since December. I support your right to respond to it in whatever way feels right to you. 

I’ve cried so much over this weekend because to me, it feels like the moment when the curtain has been pulled back in Oz and you find out that the powerful Wizard of Oz is just some lying schmuck from Kansas. Writing this story has been an escape for me from everything going on in the world right now, and while it does feel like now that escape has been spoiled, I’m hoping that with time and distance we can enjoy the fandom for what it is, even if we don’t support the person who created it. I started writing this story back in August as a way to help improve my writing skills and confidence in my work. The overwhelming amount of support all of you have shown has been so humbling and I appreciate each and every one of you who has bookmarked, liked, commented or subscribed to this story. I will continue posting and writing this story. I've told you guys from the beginning that I will never abandon or orphan this story even if I'm 80 and in a nursing home (although I really hope it's finished before that XD) but as I said, the lens I look at Harry Potter through has been altered and I’m still coming to terms with what that means to me too. I apologize if that may mean a larger gap in chapter postings. 

Until next time.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I do not own any part of the HP universe and this chapter contains direct text from GOF.

“Hermione, who are you going to the ball with?”

Fred could hear Ron’s voice just ahead, as they left the Great Hall after dinner a few evenings before the ball. He began taking larger steps to stay within earshot, George throwing him an annoyed look before following suit. Hermione glanced behind herself and looked embarrassed, seeing them all looking at her expectantly. 

She frowned and said, “I’m not telling any of you, you’ll just make fun of me.” 

“You’re joking, Weasley!” said Malfoy, coming up behind them. “You’re not telling me someone’s asked that to the ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood?” 

Harry, Ron, Fred and George all whipped around, but before any of them could react, Hermione said loudly, waving to somebody over Malfoy’s shoulder, “Hello, Professor Moody!”

Malfoy went pale and jumped backward, looking wildly around for Moody, but he was still up at the staff table, finishing his stew. 

“Twitchy little ferret, aren’t you, Malfoy?” said Hermione scathingly. She, Harry, and Ron went up the marble staircase laughing heartily. As they left earshot though, Fred and George exchanged a look and a nod. They turned back to face Malfoy. 

“Malfoy, let’s take a walk. Have a sweet,” George began in an overly friendly voice, pulling out one of the last Canary Creams they hadn’t sold yet. He threw his arm over Malfoy’s shoulders to steer him the opposite direction. He and Fred pulled Malfoy down the Charms corridor, coming to a halt once they were out of sight and earshot of the rest of the students. 

“I’m not that stupid, Weasley. Now, let me go or-,” Malfoy began in his drawling voice.

“No, you’re not stupid are you?” 

Fred cut in, matching George’s friendly tone. Then suddenly, he dropped his smile and replaced it with the dangerous look that was now mirrored on George’s face. 

“You see, you may have heard what we do to people who get on the wrong side of us,” Fred continued, pulling his wand out and waving it lightly.

“And even if you weren’t already an insufferable, stupid git, using that word in front of us just put you there,” George said, sighing sadly and patting Malfoy on the shoulder.

Malfoy shook George’s arm off, sneering, but it didn’t quite look convincing on his face. 

“Is something about this supposed to scare me?” he drawled, his eyes darting between them. 

It was George’s turn to scowl as he pulled out his wand too. He pointed it at Malfoy’s nose. Malfoy’s eyes crossed as he struggled to keep it in his line of sight. 

“Well, we’ve already established that you aren’t stupid, so I’ll let you decide if you think you should be afraid of us right now,” George said, in a deadly voice. 

Fred was sure Malfoy had stopped breathing. After a moment, George smirked as he lowered his wand just enough for Malfoy to duck underneath and begin walking quickly back toward the dungeons. They could hear him muttering under his breath. Fred lifted his wand again and pointed it at Malfoy, about 10 yards away.

“Densaugeo,” he said, flicking it lazily. 

Fred and George both laughed in satisfaction, hearing Malfoy screech in horror as the jinx hit him and made him double over. Malfoy scrambled to his feet, trying unsuccessfully to cover his rapidly growing teeth. He ran up the stairs toward the hospital wing and out of sight.

Laughing to each other, Fred and George made their way back up to the common room. As he lifted aside the tapestry covering the shortcut back to Gryffindor tower, George said in a would-be casual voice,

“So, any particular reason you care so much who Hermione is going with to the ball?”

“Dunno what you mean,” Fred said, in a neutral voice, not meeting George’s eye. “Just trying to get back to the common room.”

“Uh huh,” George said, unconvinced. “That’s why you’ve been sitting next to all of them every meal and evening so you can hear every time Ron asks Hermione who she’s going with,” he continued.

Fred remained silent so George kept speaking. 

“That’s also why Malfoy is having a pair of great fangs removed from the hospital wing right now when we usually just let the three of them sort out their own problems with that little prat.”

“I don’t care who she’s going to the ball with.” Fred said, roughly.

“Okay then, so you finally asked someone then?”

“For the love of Merlin’s saggy left- what does it matter who I’m going with?” Fred ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head. 

George grinned at him. 

“Pretty defensive there. What? All the girls turn you down?”

Fred rolled his eyes. 

“More like I haven’t bothered asking. The only girl I considered asking already has a partner,” he muttered, feeling the heat creeping up the back of his neck. 

George looked down, lost in thought as they walked. When he finally spoke, his voice wasn’t joking anymore.

“Look Fred, you might as well ask someone. You know she has a partner to the ball already, but if you don’t stop moping around and get a move on, you’re going to end up showing up without one yourself,” he said seriously.

Fred looked down the corridor, and thought about it. He would look like an idiot if he showed up to the ball without a partner, but there really wasn’t anyone else he wanted to ask. George seemed to understand.

“But if you would rather just take your frustration out on Malfoy every time we see him, I’m happy to do that too,” he said, grinning. They reached the Fat Lady and gave the password.

As the portrait hole swung open, Fred smirked, “Maybe, but I have to say that hexing Malfoy is really working for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no words to adequately express how grateful I am for all of the kind words from everyone who commented on the last chapter. Awed and dumbfounded just about cover it, although humbled comes pretty close too lol. I wasn't sure what the future would hold for this story after the comments from She Who Must Not Be Named, but you guys have really helped me with the understanding and realization that this really is our world now. JK who?
> 
> Now then, back to regularly scheduled programming! I know this chapter is really short, but it's the last one before the Yule Ball! The Yule Ball........ it's gonna be pretty long, and I wanted to include this scene, but I realized it doesn't actually fit well at the start of the next chapter. So here's your last little teaser before the main event! 
> 
> I know, I can't believe that this is all I have to say at the end of a chapter either, but brevity is the theme of this one! That being said, stay safe, wash yo' hands, drink water, put on sunscreen every day, and see you at the ball!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I do not own any part of the Wizarding world and this chapter contains direct text from GOF

Lavender handed Hermione the large mirror from her bedside table, grinning triumphantly.

“This may be some of my best work yet.”

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror and her jaw dropped. She had never seen her hair so smooth and manageable. It had taken them both the better part of the last two hours, but Hermione’s hair was now hanging in smooth waves and curls down her back. Lavender took a few pins and began pinning up one side of it.

“This is amazing, Lavender,” Hermione said, still in awe as Lavender twisted pieces of Hermione’s hair into plaits, then twisted up into an elegant knot at the base of her head.

“Thank you,” she continued, smiling up at Lavender.

Lavender waved her off dismissively, pulling the pins out of her mouth so she could speak.

“Don’t mention it, I’ve been dying to do something with your hair for years.”

Hermione smiled at her reflection, rolling her eyes at Lavender’s comment. She had to admit though, with her hair pulled up into an elegant plaited knot and her magically shrunken teeth looking more noticeable than ever, she was feeling quite pretty. The thought of seeing Viktor like this made her stomach twist into a knot.  
Before she could work into a real panic though, Parvati came in wearing her shocking pink robes. She gave a little twirl as she spun around to pick up her hairbrush. She gasped when she saw Hermione’s hair.

“Oh, Hermione! You look so pretty! You should do that every day!”

“Not a chance if it takes two hours every day,” Hermione said with a light laugh, too used to Parvati and Lavender’s unsolicited advice on her appearance to feel offended.

“I still can’t believe you’re going to the ball with a school champion,” Lavender said to Parvati, a bit bitterly.

Parvati smiled serenely, sitting down on her bed to face them. She began brushing her long black hair, separating it into sections.

Starting to plait one of the sections, she smiled at them a bit smugly.

“What can I say?”

“Who are the other champions going with again?” Lavender asked, pinning up the last section of Hermione’s hair.

“I know Cedric Diggory is taking Cho Chang, and Fleur Delacour is going with Roger Davies, but I haven’t heard a thing about who Viktor Krum is taking,”

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, resisting the urge to wipe her suddenly clammy feeling palms on her dress robes.

“I’m almost done, Hermione, stop moving around,” Lavender chided, before turning her attention back to Parvati.

“Neither have I. I wonder who she is,” Lavender mused.

“Wish it were me,” Parvati said, a bit wistfully before going a bit red.

“Not that I’m disappointed to be going with Harry, that is,” she said quickly, looking embarrassed as she glanced over at Hermione.

“There,” Lavender said, triumphantly.

Hermione raised the mirror again. Her hair was swept up into an elegant, plaited style, a softly pinned knot at the back of her head.

“You still won’t tell us who you’re going with?” Parvati asked, one eyebrow raised as she started plaiting another section of her hair, now weaving gold ribbons into it.

Hermione hopped up and ran her hands over her dress robes, making sure there were no wrinkles.

“You’ll see at the ball,” Hermione said, smiling.

“Oh goodness, is that clock right?” Parvati screeched shrilly.

Hermione looked up and with a lurch of her stomach, she realized that she had less than twenty minutes before she was supposed to meet Viktor. She took a calming breath and grabbed her bag, a small, purple beaded one that she could hold around her wrist. She’d found it at a secondhand store with her mother over the last summer holiday. It didn’t go with her robes, but it was the only bag she had other than her school bag.

“I’ll see you both downstairs,” Hermione said, her stomach still in knots.

“I can’t wait to finally see your mystery date,” Lavender grinned, as she pulled out a tube of lipstick to reapply.

Hermione didn’t say anything but waved to them both in farewell as she left the dormitory. Down in the Great Hall, there were a few people already milling around nervously. Hermione left the portrait hole and began walking slowly down to the Entrance Hall. Viktor had asked her to meet him there, but she was still confused as to why he had asked her to meet him so early.

**************************

Getting to the Entrance hall with a few minutes to spare, Hermione began pacing around nervously, her heart hammering in her chest. She felt the cold sweat forming on her palms again and resisted the urge to wipe them on her robes.

“You look very beautiful.”

Viktor’s quiet voice made Hermione start and she turned around to face him. Heat rising to her neck and face, she could see that Viktor looked very handsome himself. He looked at Hermione a bit in awe.

“Thank you. You look very nice too.”

Viktor looked a bit embarrassed as he held out his arm to her. Hermione took it curiously. He steered her toward the front doors, looking apologetic.

“Do you mind? Kararoff wants us all to go in together. To make an entrance,” he continued, rolling his eyes.

“Okay,” Hermione said, her voice shooting up an octave.

As a matter of fact, the idea of meeting the rest of the Durmstrang students and especially Karkaroff made her feel a bit ill, but she clutched on to Viktor’s arm and followed him as he lead the way outside.

Within a few moments, Hermione’s teeth began to chatter. Her robes were very light and airy and provided little warmth. Viktor wrapped an arm around her and Hermione could feel the thick material his were made out of.

“I am sorry. Where I am from, this cold is nothing. So I didn’t think,” he said nervously.

“Oh, that’s alright, really,” Hermione said.

“How cold does it get where you live,” she asked, curiously.

“Well in Bulgaria, where my home is, not as cold. At Durmstrang though, very. Sometimes we have to wear our furs, even in the castle. I prefer it here. It is much more comfortable in your castle.”

Hermione shivered at the thought. She hated the winter months. In fact, she thought Hogwarts was plenty cold enough during the winter.

“That sounds awful,” Hermione said without thinking. She immediately went red, realizing she had just insulted Viktor’s school.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t like the cold,” she said blushing, but Viktor laughed.

Then it was as if her comment had broken the ice. They spent the rest of the walk to the Durmstrang ship chatting animatedly about how they both preferred the summertime and nice weather. By the time they got to the ship, Hermione felt her nerves fading away.

As they made their way up the gangway, however, Hermione’s grip on Viktor’s arm tightened. He lead her up on to the main deck where thankfully, it was much warmer. The Durmstrang students were also wearing a variety of different colors, but like Viktor’s, most of them were thick winter robes with fur-lined overcoats. They looked at Hermione curiously, but not in an unfriendly way.

“Do not worry. My friends will like you,” Viktor said, with a smile as he brought her over for introductions. Hermione returned it a bit woodenly, but she quickly found that Viktor’s friends were a good-natured lot, smiling warmly at her as they shook her hand while Viktor introduced her to them. They even tried to include her in their conversations. Hermione was just beginning to relax when the door on the top level of the ship opened.

Karkaroff emerged from his cabin, wearing his long white furs. His eyes seemed to lock on to Viktor and Hermione instantly. The sharp, narrowed look he gave them made Hermione shiver involuntarily again.

“Are you still cold?” Viktor asked her, putting his arm around her again.

“Um, no. I’m alright,” Hermione said, as Karkaroff made his way over to them and fixed them both with a yellowed smile that didn’t warm his expression at all. Hermione had the feeling that as far as Karkaroff was concerned, she was as unwelcome on the ship as a rat or other pest.

“Viktor, who is your charming friend? I don’t think I know her,” he asked, not taking his eyes off Hermione.

The question made Hermione feel uncomfortable. Of course, he didn’t know her.

“This is Hermione Granger,” Viktor said, by way of introduction. Hermione held out her hand and Karkaroff took it briefly.

“I see,” Karkaroff said, with a sniff. “I know many people at the British Ministry of Magic, but I’m not familiar with your surname, Miss Granger. Just what is it that your family does?”

Hermione swallowed nervously, but she looked him in the eye as she answered in a strong voice,  
“They’re muggle dentists.”

“I see,” Karkaroff said again, giving her a smug look before moving on as if she had answered all his questions. Meanwhile, the Durmstrang students had begun to line up.

“Viktor, up here.” Karkaroff gestured to the front of the line. Viktor grinned and rolled his eyes to Hermione. She smiled a bit weakly, not wanting to be nearer to Karkaroff than she had to. They started toward the castle, walking in silence. When they got closer to the front doors, Hermione felt the nervous panic begin in her stomach again.

Viktor looked down at her and squeezed her arm. As the front doors of the castle opened, he leaned in and whispered into her ear.

“You do look beautiful, you know.”

**************************

Hermione smiled widely up at him as they walked through the threshold of the castle. Viktor’s compliment was enough to help her ignore the looks of awe, jealousy, and in the case of a few of the members of Viktor’s fan club, rage.

She and Viktor walked over to where Hermione could see Harry, Parvati, and the other Champions and their partners. Harry was looking the other direction with a bitter look on his face before he turned his attention to her. The way his eyes widened was almost comical, Hermione thought, trying not to start nervously laughing.

“Hermione!”

“Hi Harry,” she said, feeling a bit breathless, “Hi Parvati.”

Parvati’s jaw had hit the floor. Then she gave Hermione a look that meant she would be waiting to pounce the second they both made it back to their dormitories.

“Hi, Hermione,” she said, arching her eyebrow higher than Hermione would have thought possible.

Fortunately, Hermione was unable to respond as Professor McGonagall called all the champions to line up. Cedric and Cho lead the procession at the front, followed by Fleur and her partner, then Hermione and Viktor, with Harry and Parvati behind them.

Hermione took Viktor’s arm, feeling the nerves rising again. While she had been talking to Harry and Parvati, the other students had been entering the Great Hall. Now Hermione could see that they all sat at tables with an aisle in the middle for them to pass through on the way up to the Head Table.

Professor McGonagall nodded to Cedric and they were off. Hermione and Viktor followed them into the Great Hall. She noticed Ginny and Neville and gave them a bright smile. Ginny grinned at her widely looking very pretty in mint green dress robes, next to Neville who also looked quite smart in dark blue robes. Ron was sitting with them at the same table, glaring down at the place setting. Padma Patil sat next to him with a very annoyed look on her face. Her arms were tightly folded in front of her.

At the neighboring table, Hermione could see Fred watching the procession next to George and a few other 6th years. Then, Hermione felt a blow to the gut as Katie Bell leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Whatever it was, it made Fred turn to her and smile widely at her before he responded.

Hermione snapped her eyes back to the front and made her way up to the champion’s table with Viktor, feeling light-headed as all the blood rushed to her head. He pulled her chair out and Hermione smiled numbly in thanks.

She grabbed the menu on her plate and stared at it blankly without reading it. Why should she care who Fred went to the ball with anyway, she chided herself. It wasn’t as if she’d thought he was going to ask her.

Alright, she reasoned, when she had first heard about the ball, she’d spent the first few days fantasying that he might ask her, but he hadn’t. And why would he, Hermione thought, they were just friends. Friends who weren’t even speaking at the moment.

“What are you going to have?”

Viktor’s voice shook Hermione out of her internal monologue.

Without actually looking at the rest of the options, she quickly picked the first thing on the menu.

Hermione took a deep breath, angry with herself. She had her own partner to the ball, and it was someone who had asked her. She wasn’t being fair to Viktor. She cast around for something, anything to say, but it was Viktor who spoke first.

“These decorations are amazing. We don’t have the space for something like this at Durmstrang.”

“What is it like to go to Durmstrang?” Hermione asked, her anxiety over Fred and Katie giving way to her curiosity.

“Well, we have a castle also, not as big as this, nor as comfortable, I am thinking,” he said.

“We have just four floors, and the fires are lit only for magical purposes. But we have grounds larger even than these — though, in winter, we have very little daylight, so we are not enjoying them. But in summer we are flying every day, over the lakes and the mountains —,” Viktor broke off as Karkaroff laughed and cut him off.

“Now, now, Viktor!” he said with a laugh that didn’t reach his cold eyes, “don’t go giving away anything else, now, or your charming friend will know exactly where to find us!”

Hermione’s blinked a few times at the cold look on his face, but it was gone a moment later when Professor Dumbledore called his attention away from them.

“As I said earlier, I like it here much better,” Viktor said to her in a low voice, rolling his eyes toward Karkaroff.

Hermione needn’t have worried about the conversation after all. She asked Viktor what he liked to do when he wasn’t playing Quidditch and he had surprised her by saying that he loved to read. They spent a long time on the subject of books they’d both read. Then he had asked her about where she had grown up. He told her that the Quidditch World Cup had been the first time he had ever been to England.

“Oh, you really must come back to visit London again. There’s so much to do and see, and not just in the Wizarding World,” Hermione said, excitedly.

“Maybe if you were the tour guide,” Viktor said, grinning at her. Hermione’s stomach leaped and she smiled back at him shyly.

“I’d like that,” she said.

Toward the end of the meal, Viktor grinned at her a bit nervously.

“You know, Hermy-own, I feel very bad that I still have trouble saying your name.”

“Oh!” Hermione said a bit embarrassed, “I don’t mind, Viktor.”

“I do though. Would you try to tell me how again?”

“It’s a bit easier if you say each part slowly,” she said, trying the same method she’d used when her younger cousins had struggled to say her name growing up.

“Her-my-oh-nee,” she said slowly and clearly.

“Herm-own-ninny.”

“Close enough,” she said, catching Harry’s curious eye from across the table and grinning.

Dinner was beginning to wrap up. Hermione found herself regretting finishing the last few bites of dinner on her plate when Dumbledore rose to his feet and had the students do the same. With a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a flute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it. The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn.

They picked up their instruments, and Hermione, who had been so interested in watching them that she had almost forgotten what was coming, suddenly realized that the lanterns on all the other tables had gone out and that the other champions and their partners were standing up.

Hermione held Viktor’s hand very tightly, and he had the tact not to wince. She followed him and the other champions out to the floor. She was grateful that the dim lighting made it a bit easier to ignore the sea of people watching them.

Viktor wrapped one arm around her waist, his fingers on the small of her back. Hermione took a deep breath and beamed up at him as he took her hand in his other. As the music began, Hermione put one hand upon his shoulder and they started to move. As she had expected, Viktor was far from graceful. They mainly moved in small circles, but it was still very nice.

Hermione blushed realizing it was the first time she’d ever danced with a boy. With a nervous lurch of her stomach, Hermione panicked. Should she talk? Should she move closer? What if he did?

“Um, I’m really glad you agreed to come with me,” Viktor said, softly.

“So am I,” Hermione said, and it was true. Viktor had been so sweet the whole evening, thus far. He had included her in the conversations with his friends, asked her questions about herself. He had complimented her multiple times, and even though he was a few years older, he had been a perfect gentleman.

Other couples were now entering the dance floor. Hermione could see Professor Dumbledore and Madame Maxime waltzing on the dance floor. She caught Ginny’s eye as she danced with Neville. Ginny gave a commiserating shrug before wincing again as Neville stepped on her foot again. The song ended and the Weird Sisters struck up a new, faster song. Grinning at her, Viktor sped up and spun them around. Laughing, Hermione joined him. She felt the last of her nerves fade and realized she was actually very glad she had come to the ball with Viktor. When the song ended, they joined everyone in the applause. Breathless, Hermione turned to Viktor.

“Would you like to get some drinks? Then I can introduce you to some of my friends, I saw Harry head over to that table over there,” Hermione said, pointing in the direction she had seen Harry and Parvati go after the first song had ended.

Viktor looked a bit apprehensive but nodded at her.

“I’ll meet you over there,” he said, smiling weakly before turning to head over to the drink table.

Hermione found Harry and Ron very quickly. They were sitting at the same table she had seen Ron at before dinner. Ron and Padma were still sitting in the same seats, but now Padma looked furious. She kept shooting Ron dirty looks and huffing loudly as she watched the dancefloor.

Hermione felt excited nerves about Viktor meeting them as she sat down in the chair next to Harry.

“Hi,” said Harry in greeting, turning to face her too. Ron didn’t say anything.

“It’s hot, isn’t it?” said Hermione, fanning herself with her hand, struggling to keep the silly grin off her face. “Viktor’s just gone to get some drinks.”

Ron gave her a withering look.

“Viktor?” he said. “Hasn’t he asked you to call him Vicky yet?”

Hermione felt her stomach drop as she looked at him in an alarmed surprise.

“What’s up with you?” she said.

“If you don’t know,” said Ron scathingly, “I’m not going to tell you.”

Hermione stared at him, then at Harry who shrugged, looking just as confused.

“Ron, what — ?”

“He’s from Durmstrang!” spat Ron.

“He’s competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You — you’re -,” Ron sputtered, obviously casting around for words strong enough to describe Hermione’s crime, “fraternizing with the enemy, that’s what you’re doing!”

Hermione’s mouth fell open.  
“Don’t be so stupid!” she said after a moment.

“The enemy! Honestly — who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who’s got a model of him up in their dormitory?”

Ron chose to ignore this.

“I s’pose he asked you to come with him while you were both in the library?”

“Yes, he did,” said Hermione, feeling the hot patches on her face burning as she spoke. “So what?”

“What happened — trying to get him to join spew, were you?”

“No, I wasn’t! If you really want to know, he — he said he’d been coming up to the library every day to try and talk to me, but he hadn’t been able to pluck up the courage!” Hermione said, now sure that her entire face was glowing red. This wasn’t how she had wanted to have this conversation.

“Yeah, well — that’s his story,” said Ron nastily.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” she cried in frustration.

“Obvious, isn’t it? He’s Karkaroff’s student, isn’t he? He knows who you hang around with. . . . He’s just trying to get closer to Harry — get inside information on him — or get near enough to jinx him.”

Hermione felt like he had slapped her in the face. Breathing heavily, she could hear her voice quivering as she spoke.

“For your information, he hasn’t asked me one single thing about Harry, not one —”

Ron changed tack at the speed of light.

“Then he’s hoping you’ll help him find out what his egg means! I suppose you’ve been putting your heads together during those cozy little library sessions —”

“I’d never help him work out that egg!” said Hermione, feeling outraged. “Never. How could you say something like that — I want Harry to win the tournament, Harry knows that, don’t you, Harry?”

She looked over to Harry desperately.

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” sneered Ron.

“This whole tournament’s supposed to be about getting to know foreign wizards and making friends with them!” said Hermione hotly.

“No it isn’t!” shouted Ron. “It’s about winning!”

Hermione could see that people were staring at them.

“Ron,” said Harry quietly, “I haven’t got a problem with Hermione coming with Krum.”

Hermione looked at him gratefully.

But Ron ignored Harry too.

“Why don’t you go and find Vicky, he’ll be wondering where you are,” said Ron.

“Don’t call him Vicky,” Hermione yelled, jumping to her feet and storming off, across the dance floor, leaving Harry and Ron behind.

***************************

Wanting to find somewhere to be alone, she made her way into the entrance hall. The front doors stood open, and the fluttering fairy lights in the rose garden winked and twinkled as she went down the front steps, where she found herself surrounded by bushes; winding, ornamental paths; and large stone statues. Harry could hear splashing water, which sounded like a fountain. Here and there, people were sitting on carved benches. Hermione found one and sat down, morosely.

She had expected Ron’s reaction from other people. She had been prepared for it, but she hadn’t been prepared for it to come from him. She had expected that Ron, of all people, would be excited to meet Viktor.

But what if he was right, a voice in the back of Hermione’s mind echoed. She thought about everything Viktor had done and said since he had come to talk to her that day in the library. He had seemed so genuine, he had introduced her to his friends, he had called her beautiful.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there on the bench, but eventually, Hermione realized that Viktor would be looking for her. She rose to her feet and started up the path back to the castle, only to see Viktor walking down the path, looking for her. He had two butterbeers in his hands and Hermione felt guilty.

“There you are,” he said, coming over to her.

“Are you okay,” he asked in concern, seeing her face.

“I just, I needed a moment,” Hermione said, “I just had an, um, disagreement with one of my friends.”

“The red-haired one?” Viktor said, frowning.

“How did you-,” Hermione broke off in horror, “he said something to you didn’t he?”

Viktor shrugged.

“Just that he didn’t know where you were.”

Hermione let out a derisive noise and folded her arms over her chest. She glared in the direction of the Great Hall, wondering if Ron was still sitting in that spot ready to start in again.

“We don’t have to go back in, you know,” Viktor said.

Hermione looked at him, one eyebrow raised in question.

“If you wanted to, I would take you back to your dormitory if you wanted to leave.”

“No!” Hermione said quickly, “I’m sorry. Ron just-, sometimes he just knows exactly how to make me so angry.”

Viktor gave her a look that made Hermione wonder if he had heard some of her arguments with Ron. She smiled at him in what she hoped was a reassuring way.

“I’ve had a lot of fun tonight, Viktor. I want to stay. Let’s go back inside.”

The relief was obvious on his face. They made their way back in, Hermione waving to Hagrid and Madame Maxime at the front doors. She spent the rest of the evening dancing and talking to Viktor and by the time the Weird Sisters had played their final song, Hermione had all but forgotten what had happened.

Viktor walked Hermione back to the common room and they walked in comfortable silence. When they made it to the Fat Lady though, Viktor turned to face Hermione. He looked a bit nervous as he spoke.

“I had a lot of fun with you tonight, Herm-own-ninny.”

Hermione looked down, as the wide smile spread over her face.

“So did I,” she said.

Viktor laughed a little, sounding relieved. He took a step closer to her and reached for her hand.

As his fingers wove through hers, Hermione felt her heart race. She looked back up at him and as their eyes met, Hermione realized he was going to kiss her.

Viktor leaned in toward her, but just before his lips met hers, the sound of a loud cough stopped them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeeek, sorry to leave it on a small cliffhanger but wow-wee this chapter is LOOOONG. And the next one will be too. I am almost finished and there will be some Fredmione action! ;) (Hee hee, shameless teasing!)
> 
> I'm really hoping to get the next chapter done tonight actually. If I do, I will post it ASAP. :) 
> 
> Until next time!!!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I don't own any part of the Harry Potter Universe or Wizarding World

“What’s Percy doing here?”

George nudged Fred, who started in alarm at the sight of his brother at the front table, looking pompous as ever in brand new dress robes.

“Dunno, but I don’t see Crouch up there. Reckon Percy finally lost his marbles and just offed him?” Fred asked.

“Anyway, better Harry than us,” he continued, nodding at Harry who was taking a seat at the place next to Percy.

Fred felt grateful for the distraction Percy provided though. He hadn’t been paying any attention to the proceedings, instead scanning the numerous round tables around the hall during the procession. He told himself that he was just taking everything in, but he knew he’d been looking for Hermione. He’d been unable to stop wondering who her partner to the ball was and the anticipation was killing him.

George nudged him suddenly.

“See him up there? He's not getting away this time,” he muttered darkly in Fred’s ear.

Fred scanned the head table where he easily spotted Bagman in robes of bright purple with large yellow stars on them. Setting his jaw and rolling his eyes, Fred froze when he saw her.

Hermione was sitting on Bagman’s left side. She looked beautiful, her hair swept up to expose her long neck and her blue dress robes gave her an elegant grace as she smiled widely at the person next to her.

Already knowing who would be on Hermione’s other side didn’t stop the swift plummet of Fred's stomach when he saw Viktor Krum smile at Hermione before saying something that made her smile widely back at him.

George nudged Fred again. He followed George’s gaze down to his hand clenched tightly on his goblet. George raised one eyebrow, asking the question. Fred let go of the goblet, flexing his fingers but didn't say anything.

George opened his mouth to speak, but Fred shook his head.

“Later,” he muttered, looking away from George and at their table.

No one but Lee had even noticed the exchange, but Lee, far too used to their private conversations to do more than roll his eyes at them in annoyance just looked back at the menu on his plate.

Dinner passed painfully slowly. Fred tried not to glance over to the head table, but he was still very aware of the animated conversation Hermione was having with Krum.

Instead, he tried to concentrate on the conversations around him. He had fun joking with Katie as she provided a running commentary of Lee and George’s awkward attempts to chat with Alicia and Angelina.

“Oh, I think he's going to go in with another compliment. He’s taking risks, this one,” Katie whispered in Fred’s ear. He snorted into his goulash, George glaring daggers at him.

Really, he thought, it had been worth it to bring Katie to the ball just for this. He’d asked her on the last day of term, taking George’s advice to heart about not moping over someone who already had a partner. He’d been surprised to learn that Katie didn’t have a partner, and she’d seemed enthusiastic enough when Fred had asked her to go as friends.

As dinner finished up though, Fred felt the weight drop back into his stomach as the lights dimmed and the champions made their way out to the, now cleared, dance floor. As the music began, Fred found it easier to glare down at the table again, rather than at Hermione and Krum.

‘Stupid, international, Quidditch World-Cup playing-,’ Fred thought darkly before Katie’s laugh distracted him.

He barely had time to wonder what she was laughing at before she grabbed his arm and pointed at the dance floor. Idly hoping that perhaps Krum had sprouted tentacles, or had been turned into a ferret by Moody, Fred looked in the direction Katie pointed.

Harry was dancing with Parvati, or rather was being tugged along comically by Parvati. They watched her finally give up and they begin revolving in small circles in place.

“Poor Harry,” she said, as he laughed appreciatively, “Parvati sure is putting him through his paces.”

Other couples began joining the champions on the dance floor and Fred waggled his eyebrows at George when he led Angelina out. This time though, George winked back at Fred.

Fred held his arm out to Katie, grinning at her.

“Shall we?”

She took his offered arm and they made their way onto the dance floor.

Dancing with Katie was awkward at first, the two of them revolving in small circles the way they’d laughed at Harry for moments earlier, but it became almost immediately apparent that neither of them actually cared to take the dance seriously.

They spent the remainder of the song laughing at some of the couples around them, like Professor Dumbledore with Madame Maxime, his pointed hat just tickling her chin, or Professor Sinistra unable to stop looking at Moody’s wooden leg. It was easier to pretend he didn’t care about Krum and Hermione when he was joking with Katie.

Laughing as the bank struck up a faster song, their dancing became wilder and larger, causing other couples to give them a wide berth. Forgetting everything else, it wasn’t until George and Angelina waltzed over at the end of the song that Fred remembered they had another objective.

As the final notes of the song faded, George kissed the back of Angelina’s hand, bowing theatrically to her. She rolled her eyes at him, but Fred could see her fighting a smile as she turned to walk toward the refreshments.

George, on the other hand, made a beeline for Fred.

“Okay, now,” George hissed in Fred’s ear, his eyes locked on Bagman, who was bending down to kiss Professor McGonagall’s hand.

Fred looked apologetically at Katie, who simply waved them off.

“Oh go on, I wanted to go find Leann anyway,” she said, heading back over to the tables where groups sat around the dance floor.

Fred and George darted over to Bagman, who still had his back to them. As he turned to walk away though, Fred was pleased to see the boyish smile vanish instantly from Bagman’s face as they converged on him.

“Mr. Bagman! Good to see you.” George said cheerfully, offering Bagman his hand.

“Indeed. A hard man to pin down, you are, Mr. Bagman,” Fred said, offering his own hand to Bagman as well.

“Ah, yes, good to see you, um, gentlemen. Is there something I can help you with?” Bagman asked, in a would-be casual voice but Fred wasn’t fooled. He could see the worried crease deepen between Bagman’s brows and when he had shaken both their hands, he pulled out a handkerchief to dab at his shining forehead.

"Well, Mr. Bagman, you see, we’ve sent you a number of letters,” Fred said, more forcefully than he had intended, but irritation had colored his tone. Bagman knew exactly why they were there. George elbowed him in the side.

"What we mean, Mr. Bagman-,” George began, but Bagman cut him off, putting a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Look boys, I’ve gotten your letters. All of them,” Bagman said, in the exasperated tone an impatient parent might use with an unruly child.

"But I am a very busy man doing important work for the Ministry,” he continued, “and this tournament has taken up a vast majority of my time. As a matter of fact, I’m afraid I really must be off. You boys understand of course, but we’ll discuss it after the new year,” Bagman said, clapping them both on the shoulder jovially as he bustled away.

Fred stood, locked in place, watching Percy rush forward to meet Bagman, apologies already flooding out of his mouth. Percy looked over Bagman’s shoulder to glare at the two of them, and Fred rolled his eyes.

Laughing bitterly to himself, Fred felt he could finally see himself and George through Bagman’s eyes. They were children to him. Standing there, in the middle of the Great Hall, being glared at by Percy, their endless letters, the half-cocked attempts to corner him seemed mediocre and childish.

Even now, when they finally had finally gotten Bagman right where they’d wanted him and they’d been blown off like children, again. Fred knew Bagman had no intention of paying them in the new year, as he had put it. He had known it before Bagman had even opened his mouth. He thought they were no more than little boys he didn’t need to take seriously, but it was time to show him just how wrong he was.

"George?”

“Yeah, Fred?”

“I think it’s time Bagman learned just who exactly he decided to cross, don’t you?”

George threw an arm over Fred’s shoulders, grinning wickedly.

“I’ve been waiting to hear those words for a long time, brother.”

********************************

Fred and Katie stepped through the portrait hole and into the common room where people were still mingling, chatting in small groups, unwilling to bring the evening to a close. She turned to face him and Fred felt suddenly awkward for the first time that evening.

They’d come to the ball as friends, and Fred had had more fun with Katie than he had ever expected. After he and George had returned to find Angelina and Katie, Fred had spent most of the evening dancing with Katie, joking around with her, and in better spirits than he'd been in weeks.

Was he supposed to shake her hand and bid her good night, or maybe bow for comedic effect and kiss her hand the way George had kissed Angelina’s? It was Katie who broke the silence though.

“When you asked me to go with you to the ball, I have to admit I didn’t know what to expect, but I had a lot of fun tonight, Fred,” Katie said.

“Yeah? I did too,” Fred told her, smiling back at her.

“I’m glad you asked me.”

Fred opened his mouth to reply but a commotion next to the portrait hole caught his attention, along with the attention of everyone else still in the common room.

Ron had climbed through and stormed his way across the common room, Hermione right on his heels. Both of them looked furious. Halfway to the boy’s dormitory, he spun around to face her.

"What do you think you’re playing at?”

His words were loud and accusatory, and as he stood to face her, Fred could see the eyes of everyone in the common room shift to her.

“I should be asking you the same thing,” Hermione snapped back at him. “What were you thinking?”

“I dunno, maybe, ‘what are you doing, going with him in the first place?” he asked her, his eyes narrowed.

“If you’re still talking about the tournament and that egg, Ron, I-,” Hermione began, turning toward the girls' staircase.

“Not just that. I’m talking about what you and _Vicky _were doing in front of the common room,” he said in a loud voice, cutting her off.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Hermione whipped around to face Ron again, her face turning scarlet.

A few people nudged each other and started to retreat to the dormitories, including Katie.

“Um, I’ll see you tomorrow, good night Fred,” Katie said, following a pair of giggling voices up the staircase.

Fred knew he should go upstairs too, but his feet made no motion to leave. After all, it was hardly spying, he reasoned. Ron and Hermione screamed at each other in the common room every other week.

Ron was yelling now.

“It means that he’s three years older than you are. He's the enemy! That’s the real reason you wouldn’t tell us who you were going with, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t tell you because it’s none of your business,” Hermione yelled back, her eyes wild with anger. She raked her hands through her elegant hairstyle, pulling some of the pins loose.

“Oh, none of my business, is it?” Ron asked, scoffing. “You don’t think you should have mentioned it to us at some point?”

Both of them were red in the face now. The few people left in the Common Room were quickly fleeing, giggling to each other.

"Well, if you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you?" yelled Hermione; her hair was coming down out of its elegant bun now, her face screwed up in anger.

Fred felt Harry press around him, gaping at the two of them.

"Oh yeah?" Ron yelled back. "What's that?"

"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"

Ron mouthed soundlessly like a goldfish out of water as Hermione turned on her heel and stormed up the girls' staircase to bed. Ron turned to face Harry and Fred.

"Well," he sputtered, looking thunderstruck, "well - that just proves - completely missed the point -"

When Harry and Fred exchanged a glance, however, it said they both felt Hermione had understood the point more clearly than Ron had. Shaking his head bitterly, Fred walked over to the fire and fell into one of the armchairs sourly.

He heard Harry and Ron go up to bed. He waved his arm in acknowledgment when they bid him good night. He supposed he should go up to bed and see how George and Lee made out with Angelina and Alicia, but couldn't summon the will. Instead, he sat, watching the flames in the fireplace grow lower and draw the common room into darkness.

**************************

Fred wasn’t sure how long he sat by the fire, but a noise finally caused him to stir.

Blinking groggily but not moving, Fred heard a huffy noise he recognized as Hermione. She stormed through the common room, then he heard the portrait hole open and then close.

Surprised, Fred rose from the chair, blinking as he tried to clear his head. He knew Hermione left the common room after curfew with Harry and Ron, but for a reason. He’d never known her to leave it by herself.

Rising to his feet, it only took a moment’s hesitation before Fred followed his curiosity out of the portrait hole and into the corridor. He didn’t see Hermione anywhere, but a whooshing noise coming from a classroom with the door cracked caught his attention.

Fred made his way to the door, peered in, and almost laughed aloud.

Hermione was sitting on top of the professor’s desk and had her wand up. Objects were flying around the room so fast they whizzed around nearly hitting the walls and each other, only to avoid a collision at the last second.

“A little late to be doing homework if you ask me,” Fred said, his quiet voice still echoing as he made his way into the room.

Jumping to her feet, Hermione flicked her wand upward in alarm, causing a set of brass scales to smash into the wall with a metallic crash.

“Oh, I hope no one heard that,” Hermione said, eyeing the door before waving her wand and sending the rest of the objects back where they belonged.

Fred crossed the room and pulled out his own wand, repairing the scales and placing it on the desk next to him.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked him.

“I should be asking you the same thing,” Fred said, grinning at her.

He realized a second too late what he’d said when Hermione set her jaw tightly and turned away from him to look out the window. He walked over to her and saw with horror that her eyes were red and she was blinking rapidly.

“Um, sorry, Hermione. I wasn’t trying to bring up that row in the common room.”

“So, you heard that, did you?” Hermione said, laughing bitterly.

She shook her head.

"Well then you already know why I’m here,” she continued, not waiting for an answer. “I went up to bed and Parvati and Lavender swarmed me with questions. About the row, about the ball, about Viktor.”

She trailed off looking up at the ceiling and shaking her head again.

“I couldn’t take it,” she said, “so I said I left something downstairs and now I’m just waiting until I’m sure they’ve gone to bed.”

Hermione walked over to the closest desk and leaned against it, putting her head in her hands. She began pulling pins from her hair roughly, massaging her scalp where they’d been. Her hair began unraveling from the braids and twists, falling in waves much further down the curve of her back than Fred expected. 

He felt speechless, marveling at her as though he’d never seen her properly. All through the ball, he’d been trying not to look at her, but now he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Hermione looked up suddenly and in horror, Fred realized that she’d caught him staring at her.

“I know what you must be thinking.”

Fred sincerely hoped that she didn’t, heat creeping up the back of his neck. He suddenly became very fascinated with inspecting the candle holder behind her.

“I know it’s too late, and I don’t expect you to forgive me but for what it’s worth, I really am sorry,” she said.

Surprise turned Fred’s attention back to Hermione, his eyes narrowing as he thought.

Finally, he spoke, considering each word.

“Look Hermione, I accept your apology. I’m not asking you to tell me whatever it was you were really up to that night, but I wish you felt like you could trust me.”

“You should know better than most, I won't betray my friends' trust,” Hermione said, her face unrelenting. Fred folded his arms over his chest, irritated by the reminder of their last argument over the summer.

“Yeah actually, I do remember. That’s kind of why I didn’t expect you to just shut me out,” he said flatly. When he looked back at her, it was Hermione’s turn to drop her gaze.

“I should have apologized before now. I wanted to, I just… I was,” Hermione broke off, shaking her head to clear it and took another deep breath.

“I was protecting someone else’s secret,” she said.

Fred knew he was pushing his luck, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Protecting who? Harry?"

Hermione looked conflicted.

“Look, I can’t say who, just that it was a friend who was trying to help,” she said. Fred pursed his lips, not wanting to let it go, but he decided to change the subject.

“So,” he asked, in what he hoped was a nonchalant voice, “ what was that fight in the common room all about?”

“Oh, that,” Hermione said, going very red.

She looked away from Fred again as she spoke, mumbling under her breath. Fred caught a few snippets.

“Just silly, really, -known for a while, but he never did anything, -four years to realize-.”

“If you ever feel like finishing a sentence there, you’ll let me know will you?” Fred asked her, rolling his eyes at her when she glared at him.

“It was about the fact that Ron’s been acting like I’ve done something wrong all night by going to the ball with Viktor. He’s known about the ball for weeks now, and he only thought to ask me as a last resort.”

Fred felt the smile on his face freeze in place as Hermione went on.

“He said that I was fraternizing with the enemy and that Viktor only asked me to help him through the tournament. And who knows, maybe he did,” she continued, her voice becoming very quiet as she looked down at her hands.

“I doubt that,” Fred said, rolling his eyes as he scoffed at the idea.

“How do you know that?” Hermione asked, her head snapping up to look at him curiously.

Their eyes met and Fred knew she was waiting for a response. Fred could feel the heat spread again from the back of his neck to his ears and face. Sometimes it was too easy to talk to Hermione, he cursed internally. He always said the first thing on his mind when he was around her.

What was he supposed to tell her? That Krum would have to be a complete idiot not to realize how incredible she was? That he was pretty sure Krum did actually like her because he’d been alternating between glaring at Krum and trying not to stare at her all night?

For a moment, Fred let himself get wrapped up in a fantasy where he told Hermione how he felt about her, a fantasy where Krum didn’t exist, where he hadn’t waited too long to ask her to the ball. But he had waited too long to ask her, his mind taunted him and the truth was that she’d said yes to Krum, not him.

“Look Hermione, “ Fred said, sighing, “Krum asked you to the ball because he likes you. Anyone looking at the two of you could see that.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? They were probably all thinking the same thing as Ron.”

“No one could ever be thinking the same thing as Ron. Most have more brain cells, for one,” Fred said. He saw Hermione fighting to keep the smirk off her face, and grinned at her.

“Thanks, Fred,” Hermione said.

“Um, we should head back to the common room before someone does come along this way,” she continued, eyeing the door.

“Yeah, I’ll be along in a minute,” Fred said. Hermione touched his arm as she passed, pausing for a moment as if considering something else to say. Then her hand fell away and with the fading echo of her footsteps, she was gone.

Once she was out of sight, Fred hung his head down, leaning back on the desk. Would she have said yes if he’d asked her? He should have asked her when he’d had the chance. Instead, he’d let his pride get in the way and Krum had beaten him to it. He felt like flinging a few objects around the room himself, he thought.

Instead, he stood upright and left the classroom. The common room was empty when Fred climbed back through the portrait hole, so he assumed that meant the coast had been clear when Hermione had gone up to bed.

When he lay in his four-poster bed, later, Fred supposed that going to talk to Hermione hadn’t been a total loss since they’d made amends. He smiled though as he rolled over, turning his thoughts to the Quidditch World Cup, smirking at the memory of Krum’s broken nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, it was never my intention to leave you with a cliff hanger for so long. Really and truly, but I really hope the wait was worth it because I've been majorly stressing this chapter. 😬 I hope you guys enjoy the ball from Fred's perspective and that the scene with Fred and Hermione isn't too contrived. I've really wanted it to happen for a while and if it weren't 2:30 in the morning right now, I would probably be a better judge of that. XD
> 
> I would like to apologize in advance for any errors, clarity wise or grammatical. As I said, it's 2:30 in the morning here and I passed tired a while ago (as well as overly candid). I will go back and edit anything I missed, I just really wanted to get this chapter up asap! :D I really hope you guys enjoy the second half of the Yule Ball and are excited for some second task and Rita Skeeter drama coming up ahead!
> 
> Until next time <3


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